The Long Way Down
by Llywela
Summary: Another false landing by the TARDIS sees the Doctor, Sarah and Harry stranded and separated on a strange, hostile world – can they find their way back to the TARDIS and each other to make good their escape?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer**: The Doctor, his TARDIS and his companions belong to the BBC. I have borrowed them for this story and am making no profit from this.

**Prologue**

"Get the door, would you, Harry," the Doctor called, buffing at a spot on the TARDIS console with his sleeve and then patting it.

The door control was one of the few switches on that console Harry Sullivan dared touch, after the alarming outcome of his first encounter with the Doctor's remarkable time machine. He'd come a long way since then – halfway around the universe and back, in fact – but it was with hard-earned caution nonetheless that he flipped the switch, and was relieved to see the door opening as intended, which meant he'd chosen the right one.

This was the second attempt they'd made to return to UNIT in response to an urgent summons, and if Harry's time aboard the TARDIS had taught him anything it was that the Doctor's ability to control his remarkable time machine was a little on the erratic side, so he headed for the door hoping rather than expecting to see the reassuringly familiar sight of the lab back at HQ.

The door opened into space – or height, rather – and he caught hold of the frame to avoid stepping out onto nothing, looked down at a tremendous drop of many thousands of feet, dizzyingly far and crowded with traffic…airborne traffic, zipping around at breath-taking speed. Looking up again, he blinked and jerked back as another of those flying cars zipped past, almost close enough to touch – and then another, and another. The sky was full of them, zooming around in all directions and at all levels.

It was a city of some kind – a city of skyscrapers, impossibly high, all glass and chrome, graceful and curved, busy and bustling with air traffic of all shapes and sizes, as far as the eye could see.

Not UNIT headquarters, then.

"Er, Doctor…"

**Part One**

Sarah Jane Smith arrived in the console room just in time to hear the Doctor say, "Ah," in a pensive, chagrined tone.

"Well, that doesn't sound good," she remarked, amused. "Aren't we there yet?"

Standing over at the door, Harry turned and caught her eye. He had an expressive face, as a rule, and the expression it wore just now was a mixture of resignation and amusement. "Looks like we've missed the target again, I'm afraid, old thing."

"Again?" She shouldn't be surprised, turned quizzical eyes upon the Doctor, teasing, "Hey, I thought you said you were fixing the thingamajig."

"The navigational stabilisers – I was. I have," he loftily defended.

"He's almost sure of it," Harry mischievously added, and Sarah had to grin at the Doctor's baleful glower. He didn't like to have his TARDIS steering prowess questioned or mocked, even when that questioning and mocking was completely justified.

"The balance is a little out, that's all," he said with a sniff, and managed to make it sound as if he'd always intended this as no more than a test run. "Just a matter of refinement, you know, easily resolved. Still, we may as well get our bearings, since we're here. Let's take a look, shall we?"

"Careful," Harry warned as they joined him at the door and a moment later Sarah saw why and caught hold of the door frame with a gasp because they were perched right at the edge of some kind of ledge, teetering over the most tremendous drop she'd ever seen.

"Oh, that's high." She wasn't fond of heights at the best of times, and this was so high the ground wasn't visible – there were clouds down there, far below them! Harry solicitously took her elbow to steady her and she couldn't even feign a protest on principle, too busy maintaining her death grip on the doorframe so as not to wobble right off the ledge. She stared in wonder at glistening skyscrapers and the dizzying array of fast-moving air traffic that filled the space between them. "Where are we, Doctor?"

"I'm not entirely sure," the Doctor admitted with an expansive shrug and a thoughtful moue. "These intergalactic trading outposts all look very much the same, you know – if you've seen one, you've seen them all."

Sarah looked at Harry and said, "It's an intergalactic trading outpost of some kind, then," with a roll of her eyes that made him grin – it might go without saying for the Doctor and may not be as definitive an answer as he'd like to give, but it was useful information for them. "How high do you suppose we are?" she added, glancing downward with a shudder.

Another of those expansive shrugs the Doctor was so fond of, accompanied by a tug of the ear lobe and rub of the chin, which meant he was guessing and didn't want to say so. "Oh, a good two miles or so, I should imagine."

"Two miles?" Her head span again at the thought of it.

"At the very least." The Doctor peered appraisingly out at the breath-taking view. "No obvious landmarks – check the rear view on the scanner, would you?"

As awe-inspiring as the cityscape was, Sarah was only too happy to step away from it and activate the viewscreen instead, for a rather safer view of whatever lay behind them. It flickered into life…offering a wonderful view of a dull, metallic wall of some kind, slightly curved, with no identifying features whatsoever.

"Well, a fat lot of help that is," she snorted.

"Ah," said the Doctor, and he waggled his eyebrows at her with a cheery grin. "Back to the drawing board, then."

"I think I can see some kind of inscription around the way here – a logo of some kind," Harry offered. The Doctor brightened.

"What does it say?"

"I can't quite make it out." Harry was leaning out through the open door at an alarming angle to peer around the side of the TARDIS and Sarah's head swam with vertigo just looking at him, hanging out over that drop.

"Hey, be careful," she called, because this was Harry, who could trip over his own feet for no good reason on a perfectly flat bit of ground, never mind over a two mile drop, and they were right on the edge.

"It's all right, there's just enough room here for a foot. It's only a step." He swung himself around as he spoke, using the tiniest of gaps between the TARDIS and the edge of the ledge as a foothold, and vanished from sight.

"Well?" The Doctor strode to the door and tried peering out and around himself, and Sarah hurried after him, deathly drop or no deathly drop.

"Well don't you go disappearing out there as well."

"Harry? What do you see?" the Doctor called.

"I say. What a remarkable place." Harry sounded impressed. "You can see for miles from up here. No way out, though."

"How do you mean?"

"Funny sort of wall back here," he replied, with typical Harry vagueness. "No doors. Jolly odd sort of place, I must say. We seem to have landed on some kind of platform, I suppose, just sort of sticking out and going nowhere. It's not very big."

"What about the logo, Harry – anything to indicate where we are?"

"Er…it says 'Vox-Leon orbital'," Harry began to read, but he got no further because that was when the platform beneath them tilted on its side.

It was over in a blink, no time to grab onto anything, barely even time to scream. One moment Sarah was standing alongside the Doctor in the wide open TARDIS doorway, the next they were falling out through it and all she knew was terror. It was thousands of feet down to the ground below, so high she couldn't even feel how fast she was falling, bitterly cold air whipping through her hair and clothes and lungs, and then a sharp jerk almost pulled her shoulder out of its socket and she was hanging.

A whimper escaped.

"It's all right, it's all right, I've got you," a voice called from somewhere just above, deep and low and soothing. The Doctor.

He had hold of her wrist and she clutched desperately at his sleeve with fingers fast becoming painfully numb with cold, flailed frantically with her other arm for something, anything to hold onto.

"Stop struggling," he said, and that was easier said than done when blind panic was in control of all motor functions. "I'm going to swing you around, try to catch hold of the structure."

He began to swing before she'd processed the words, before she even knew what structure he meant. The whole universe had shrunk to a pinpoint and that pinpoint was the Doctor's grip on her wrist and the two mile drop beneath her feet; she couldn't even see what he'd found to hold onto, because that would mean looking and she couldn't. He swung her and her stomach lurched, her vision blurred, but then there was a structure and she grabbed onto it with frozen fingers. Another heart-stopping moment as he released her wrist, but she had something to hold on to now and a second hand meant a tighter grip. Flailing feet found footholds and the Doctor was still at her side, the warmth of his body pressed tight against hers, pushing her onward up the outer wall of whatever kind of structure this was. At last she found an opening and crawled through it and away from the edge, collapsed in a quivering heap of pounding heart and heaving lungs.

The shaking subsided. She lifted her head to see the Doctor perched on all fours in that high, wide opening that had allowed them access to this level, right at the edge of the ledge with a white-knuckle grip on it as he stared down at the deathly drop below.

An icy fist seemed to clutch at her heart, filling her with dread. "Doctor?"

"I can't see the TARDIS," he said, and it was very nearly the same light, nonchalant tone he'd used before, when they were standing in the TARDIS doorway discussing the view, only not, there was an edge to his voice now that she'd only rarely heard before, and his face was turned away from her.

The TARDIS wasn't the only thing missing.

Harry.

"What about Harry?" He'd been right alongside them and the whole platform had tilted, so if the TARDIS had fallen then Harry had also fallen and the frantic panic of free-fall had been one thing, but this was a whole new kind of terror because he wasn't here on this new level with them which meant he hadn't managed to save himself.

Suddenly Sarah was moving again, faster than she'd felt capable of only a moment ago. Scrambling back to the edge of the ledge, fear of heights or no fear of heights, she stared, aghast, at the whirl of air-cars zipping through the sky, above, around and below them, and the dizzying drop to the ground thousands of feet below, so very far it couldn't even be seen.

"Oh no. No."

"Sarah." The Doctor's voice was low, his hand resting gently at the small of her back, but comfort only made it worse – made it real.

"God no." What became of a human body that fell two miles to the ground? She didn't know, but her mind, unbidden, conjured up images aplenty, each one more horrific than the last. Just a few minutes ago she and Harry had shared knowing grins over the Doctor's piloting eccentricities and now…

She retched, coughing up bitter bile, and felt gentle hands smoothing her hair away from her face and patting her back until the nausea subsided.

"Come away from the edge, Sarah." The Doctor's voice was still very soft, still very gentle.

She allowed him to pull her back and slumped in a heap staring dully out at the air cars and skyscrapers that surrounded them, blurred now by unshed tears. She was shaking again, and it took a moment to realise that the Doctor had started to talk – of course he had, it was his default reaction to stress of any kind.

"…should have realised," he was saying, uncharacteristically subdued, "the topmost platforms are for exo-atmospheric orbital cruisers – the landing rudders retract when they take off after re-fuelling, that's why we fell: landed on the rudder."

"We landed on a rudder?" Dashing at her eyes with the back of a hand, Sarah attempted to take an interest in what he was saying, in case it was important.

"Of an orbital cruiser, weren't you listening?" He sounded as flippant as if nothing had happened; you'd have to know him extremely well to catch the hollow undertone to his voice.

"No," she said, and stirred herself to look around at this refuge they'd found – this wide, open platform that formed part of a much vaster structure, bounded by pillars that arched to a peak high above their heads, supporting another platform further up, like some kind of bizarre cross between an oil rig and a multi-storey car park, giant-sized. There was a functional, industrial look about the place: glossy metal floor and support struts, ductwork and pipes and machinery, glisteningly bright and shiny. What any of it was for she couldn't imagine. "So where are we?" she dully asked.

"Re-fuelling station," the Doctor replied, still in that too-light tone that rang hollowly in her ears. "We landed on a cruiser using the facilities at the upper deck; this is one of the intermediate levels."

"We're going to have to tell them, you know." She didn't even realise she was going to say it until the words were already out. "When we get back to Earth, we'll have to tell everyone – the Brigadier. We'll have to tell him how we ran off with his medical officer and haven't brought him back."

Pushing back to his feet, the Doctor stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned away, his face hidden from her still. "That's a very defeatist attitude, Sarah," was all he said.

"Well, two miles is a very long way to fall, Doctor!" She scrambled upright, tears pricking at her eyes again. "And there's his family, as well – oh, but I don't even know if he has any." And that realisation hit hard. "His mother's dead, he told me that once," she added. It was the only thing she knew for sure about Harry's family and home life; although he would happily chatter away on all manner of topics, he never really talked about anything personal, and it was too late now to ask.

Shock became anger, bubbling over in a sudden burst of fury.

"It's as if you don't even care." And she knew that wasn't true, however strangely detached the Doctor's alien reactions sometimes seemed, but still the words came tumbling out. "He was your friend too, and he wasn't even supposed to be here. You thought it was funny, didn't you, tricking him into the TARDIS, never mind asking him what he wanted, but the joke was over the moment we landed on Nerva Beacon instead of going straight back to UNIT!"

"Well, you know, he did give that helmic regulator quite a twist…" the Doctor mildly defended.

"But it wasn't Harry's fault we fell from two miles in the sky all because we landed in the wrong place," she raged, and she couldn't stay still, couldn't settle, stormed away to nowhere, because there was nowhere to go on this flat, open space, high in the sky with the chill wind whistling through it.

She felt, rather than heard the Doctor following her, turned to see him shuffling awkwardly, hands stuffed into his pockets, his expression sombre.

He looked old, in fact, older than this vibrant new body of his had ever looked – old and tired and drawn.

"Two miles is a long way, Sarah. A lot can happen in two miles. We won't give up hope just yet."

How long would it take to fall all the way to the ground from this height? Would it be over and too late already or could there somehow be even the slightest of chances still, if they could only manage to raise the alarm?

"They say that people who fall from great heights are dead before they hit the ground," she murmured under her breath, a sickening lurch in the pit of her stomach as she remembered that Thal guard on Skaro taunting her with those words, sneering that he didn't believe it himself. How many minutes had it been now? Too many, surely, and she turned on the Doctor again. "Do you really believe someone could survive a fall like that?"

"Well, we did," he observed with a shrug, and just like that her anger was gone, leaving behind a terrible ache, and she didn't want to have hope, not if it was only going to feel like this again at the end of it.

"I'm sorry," she quietly said. "I shouldn't have…it's not your fault. And I know Harry didn't regret coming with us, he told me."

"I'm glad to hear it." The Doctor's voice was soft and sincere, and she'd never seen quite that look in his eye before – she'd seen him frightened and hopeless and desperate, but this particular look was new; he'd never, she supposed, dropped a friend off a two mile height before.

"What are we going to do?" Stranded on a tower two miles in the air without the TARDIS was a bit of a pickle to be in, it only now occurred to her.

The Doctor looked around rather pensively, wrinkling his nose. "Well, we're not dead, so that's promising for a start – I'm sure we'll think of something."

Sarah glanced back toward the edge of the platform and the terrible drop that lay beyond. "We have to get down from here – find the TARDIS. But then…"

But then what? If they found the TARDIS and left, it would mean admitting that they really had lost Harry, and as much as she hadn't wanted to hope, she suddenly knew that she wasn't ready for that.

The Doctor pulled his floppy felt hat out of a pocket and crammed it down over his unruly curls. "We won't leave this world until we've found Harry," he said, as serious as she'd ever known him, "One way or another."

dwdwdwdwdw

There was a voice.

There was a voice and there was pain.

Rather a lot of pain, actually: red-hot agony that spiked and stabbed through nerve endings and radiated through joints and limbs, disorienting and all-encompassing.

Awareness of anything beyond the pain came only gradually, fading in and out like a television signal in a storm, now a moment of clarity, now gone. Muscle spasms. Ragged breath hissing through clenched teeth. Contorted limbs sprawled across an uneven surface, sharp edges digging in as pinpricks of pain that were no more than a tiny part of the searing whole. The whine of an engine somewhere at hand, its groans competing with the howl of rushing wind. The bitter chill of the air and the acrid odour of oil mingled with the metallic scent of pooling blood that was sticky and damp and in too many places. What had happened?

_What had happened?_

Harry tried to lift his head, but a new pain shot down his spine at the attempt, white-hot and blinding. He lay still, gasping for breath, while the voice he'd been only dimly aware of slowly coalesced into words.

"…thrusters non-functional, navigation out. Steering – whoa! Close. Steering: just barely. Stop moving, Earth man. You're bleeding all over the deck."

The command was curt and the speaker sounded annoyed. Harry tried to reply and heard an inarticulate moan. Was that him?

"You'll have to wait while I try not to crash us." Competing with the whistle of the wind and whine of the engine, the voice sounded strained. "I don't have time for this – you really couldn't have picked someone else's windshield to fall through?"

_Windshield. Fall through_.

A memory drifted into focus, the memory of a tremendous height and of falling and then hitting hard.

Harry tried to move, to get up, to see, and the pain that hit was a tidal wave, overwhelming every sense. He heard a terrible sound, a strangled, garbled howl, and was shocked to realise it had come from him, subsided once more, gasping and choking.

"I said stop moving. I'm busy and you've got broken bones." The whine of the engine grew louder, more ragged, and grunts of effort began to register. Then, "No good, we'll have to set down. Have to glide her down, hold tight…"

Harry coughed, pain shuddering through his frame, and spat out a mouthful of blood.

He was a doctor. Even concussed and semi-conscious he could tell how serious this was.

"Stop moving, what are you doing?"

_Dying_, he wanted to say, but couldn't. The storm was back, a fuzz of white noise that drowned out every sense. He felt hands on him, heard the drone of a voice that no longer shaped words, the sound distant and dwindling.

Then nothing but the velvety blackness of oblivion, swallowing him whole.

dwdwdwdwdw

Attempting to flag down a passing air car as it made a brief stop to use the facilities was spectacularly unsuccessful.

"How unfriendly," said the Doctor, pouting, as it sped away without even acknowledging their presence, forcing them to dive aside to avoid being run over – or flown over, as it were.

Watching the strangely-shaped vehicle zoom out and away, Sarah felt more despondent than ever, but the Doctor seemed undeterred.

"Oh well. This is a service station; there must be an attendant around somewhere. We'll start there. Onward and downward, eh, Sarah." He began to scout around, determinedly bold and confident – trying just that bit too hard to act as if nothing terrible had happened at all.

Sarah trailed after him with a heavy heart, wishing she could muster even a fraction of his optimism and assurance. "It's onward and upward usually, isn't it?"

"Up? Why would we want to go up? Down, Sarah, down, we want to go down – downward and onward, onward and downward. Ah, now this looks promising."

He'd found what looked to be the entrance to some kind of maintenance shaft. Of course. No matter where in the universe they travelled, from one planet and time to another, somehow they always ended up crawling through tunnels of some kind. It was the one constant of their travels – well, that and danger, of course.

It opened at the touch of a button to reveal a wide vertical shaft, tubular in shape. Sarah peered inside and shuddered. It was a long way down and the sides were completely smooth. "Nothing to hold on to – how are we supposed to climb down that?"

"Ah," said the Doctor, holding up a finger like a magician about to perform a particularly clever trick. He pressed some more buttons on the control panel set into the wall alongside the door, and then looked her in the eye and said, "You trust me, don't you, Sarah?"

"Of course." She sometimes wondered if she should, the amount of scrapes he led her into, but then he also always got her out of those scrapes again, and at the end of the day the universe was always a better place for it. She'd entered into this with her eyes wide open, knowing full well what it meant to set foot through the TARDIS door. No, there was no one in the universe she trusted more.

Harry had also trusted him, of course, and that was a painful thought, but the Doctor didn't give her time to dwell on it. He smiled and took her hand and said, "Jump," pulling her forward before she'd fully registered the word, and a second later her heart was in her mouth because she was off her feet and falling again.

Except that she wasn't falling.

It was the most peculiar sensation – they seemed to be caught in a jet of warm air that supported their weight, floating them downward as gently as if they were feathers, until they found themselves hovering at the opening that would lead out onto the next level down and had only to take a step forward onto the platform there.

"Whew!" Sarah grabbed at the Doctor's arm as she wobbled across onto solid ground once more – stepping off thin air like that felt very strange. Then she pulled away and smacked his arm. "Hey, a decent warning would be nice next time."

The Doctor grinned. "Anti-grav lift. Rather nifty, don't you think?"

"Well, that's one word for it!" Re-gathering her composure, she looked around at a platform almost identical to the one they'd just left. "All right, so what now – find a telephone and dial 999?"

This platform was almost identical to the one they'd just left, but not quite. The Doctor pointed toward a structure across the way. "The attendant's hut, I presume. That might be a good place to begin, wouldn't you say?"

dwdwdwdwdw

Relief came slowly, awareness of it slower still.

The pain had gone, Harry only gradually realised, after an eternity floating in some inky distant haze. He'd also been moved, made comfortable on some kind of couch affair, away from the pools of blood and broken glass. The voice was still there though, a grumbling, disgruntled constant.

"Sarah?" Had he spoken the name aloud or merely thought it? It wasn't Sarah's voice he could hear, though – or the Doctor, for that matter.

So who was it?

He opened his eyes to see some kind of instrument being brandished before them.

"...completely exhausted and these things are expensive, you know. What were you thinking, freefalling at such a height?"

Harry blinked, his sluggish brain struggling to process the question through scattered memories.

"Wasn't actually a plan," he mumbled, and was relieved to hear that the words definitely came out this time, his voice hoarse but audible. He tried an experimental flex of a hand, then a foot. Nothing, as if the injuries he distinctly remembered had never happened. "I say, that's remarkable. What did you do?"

The instrument was waved in his face again and behind it the owner of the voice came into focus for the first time: an alien being of some kind, female, tall and statuesque with indigo skin that was mottled like marble. Her head was bald but for a fringe of tentacles that ran from ear to ear along the base of her skull, her eyes were multi-faceted and iridescent, her nose strangely ridged and her teeth sharp and pointed, like a cat. The faint lines around her eyes and mouth would be an indication of maturity on a human, and she wore a kind of flight suit, a gun holstered at her hip. "I healed you, of course, and now the unit is exhausted," she grumbled. "And who will pay to replenish it?"

There wasn't a great deal Harry could say to that.

"Er, I'm very grateful," he stammered, sincere and rather dazed, unable to even begin to imagine how such miraculous medical technology might work.

She glowered. "Then you may express your gratitude by assisting me with repairs – I'm late, I can't afford to waste any more time and the job will be swifter with two."

She strode away, leaving Harry to slowly push himself upright on legs that were still just a touch on the wobbly side, the lingering effect of miraculously healed trauma.

He looked around, trying to orient himself. This was the inside of one of the air cars he'd seen earlier, now stationary. It had a cockpit up front with a small and rather sparse but functional living space to the rear; it was to the cockpit that the alien woman had moved. He followed her, carefully lest his wobbly legs pack in on him, and saw for the first time the extensive damage caused by his crash through the windshield.

"Oh, I say…"

That would explain her bad mood, then.

And the Doctor and Sarah definitely weren't here.

"Er, I don't suppose you noticed anything else falling, did you?" he ventured, looking askance at the blood splattered across the smashed central control panel and pooled here and there on the floor. As a doctor, he generally wasn't troubled by blood in the slightest, but when it was his own and there was this much of it, well… the reminder of that excruciating pain was rather unsettling.

The alien woman was on her back beneath the battered control panel, peering up into the wiring with a small handheld light. "Such as?"

"A box," he anxiously elaborated. "A big blue box."

"This box belongs to you, does it?"

"My friends were in it." He sincerely hoped they still were, tried to pin down the memory of what exactly had happened. The floor had tilted, suddenly, to an acute angle, tipping him off; that much he did remember. He was almost sure he'd seen the TARDIS slide off as well, thought he might have heard Sarah scream…but the memories were jumbled and indistinct, the after-effect of cranial trauma.

"No," said the alien woman. "No blue box. Come here and help me."

Harry looked at the mess of wires and controls.

"I'm not sure how much help I can be." He bent anyway to peer beneath the console, in an effort to show willing. She had, after all, saved his life – and that after being severely inconvenienced.

"Dilly, Dilly, never here when you're needed," she sighed to herself. "Put your hand here, Earth man – hold this in place while I solder."

"It's Harry." He placed his hand where she'd told him and watched with interest as she set to work on the repair. "Surgeon-Lieutenant Harry Sullivan, in fact. Er…about the blue box."

"This box of yours again," she said with a snort. "What of it?"

"My friends are in it," he repeated, anxious at not knowing what had become of them, rattling around in the TARDIS as it fell. "They may be injured."

"The box may have collided with another vehicle and destroyed both, had you thought of that?"

He hadn't, and paled at the suggestion. The TARDIS was more or less indestructible, wasn't it? The Doctor had claimed as much, at any rate.

"Is there any way we could find out?" he worriedly asked.

"A serious collision would be reported on the citadel information channels," the brusque response came from beneath the console. "If we could access them, we might learn of any such news." The accusation was implicit in the woman's tone as she waved a hand at the damaged console above them. "But my priority is to get this heap moving again, and fast."

The soldering tool flicked off and she pushed out from under the console, pulled a toolbox toward her and selected a handful, held them out to him.

"Hold these for me."

She disappeared under the panel again. Clutching at the tools, Harry felt helpless.

"Look, I don't want to be any trouble, er…" He didn't even know her name.

"Ren. You may call me Ren."

"Ren." Short and to the point, much like the woman herself. "I don't want to be any trouble, Ren, but, er…" He followed as she shimmied around to another section of console and began work on that. "But I really must find my friends." Anything might have happened to them, dropping off the top of a building like that; made the blood run cold just to think about it. "Perhaps if you could give me an idea of where I might begin…?"

"No." Her reply was brusque and to the point. "I need your help with this and you owe me the debt."

"Of course," he hastily assured her, wondering just how great this debt might prove and how on Earth he was supposed to pay it when he hadn't a bean to his name – and still less mechanical ability. "But, er…perhaps when the ship is repaired, then – if you'll just set me down and point me on my way –"

"I don't have time! I'm already far behind schedule and my engagement cannot wait. So I am stuck with you and you are stuck with me."

Harry subsided, wondering what in the world he was going to do.

A sigh drifted out from beneath the console and Ren pushed back out, sat up and shook her head at him, wearing an expression of mingled frustration and resignation. "Perhaps afterward, when my business is complete – there may be time enough then to search for this blue box and your friends. Will that do?"

It would to have to. "Thank you," said Harry, relieved.

dwdwdwdwdw

This level was busier than the one above, a whirl of air cars coming and going, ranging from about the same size as the car Sarah had left parked outside UNIT headquarters, back on Earth however long ago it had been, to around the size of a large van or small lorry – a real mish-mash of shapes and styles.

Navigating the traffic to get across to the dome-like structure the Doctor insisted on referring to as the attendant's hut was a lot easier said than done. It was difficult to make out the occupants of any of the vehicles, but Sarah got the distinct impression that dodging in front of them wasn't going down terribly well. Foot traffic was clearly a rarity in these parts, something that no one either expected or had any patience for.

That being the case, it wasn't surprising that they should have trouble trying to get the attention of whoever was inside the attendant's hut – if indeed there was anyone in there. Given how self-sufficient the air cars using the facilities appeared to be, Sarah wasn't convinced that there was, right up to the moment a hatch suddenly slid open in belated response to the Doctor's determined efforts to either attract attention or, failing that, break in.

"Yes? Yes? What are you doing, what do you want?"

Sarah blinked and took an involuntary half-step back, caught herself before she could step into the path of a passing air-car as it zoomed away after re-fuelling, and then realised she was staring. She'd seen a lot of weird and wonderful creatures since meeting the Doctor, but this had to be the strangest yet. It was a kind of reptilian giraffe, but with arms as well as four legs, a scaly yet distinctly weasel-ish face, and an extra set of eyes on little antennae sticking out of the top of its head.

"Ah, good day," said the Doctor, doffing his hat at the creature. "I'm dreadfully sorry to disturb you –"

"I should say so," snapped the creature. "Why have you disembarked, don't you know it isn't safe? Use your sat-com if you require assistance, don't come banging on my door."

The Doctor seemed taken aback, which wasn't like him at all. "Ah. Yes. Yes, I'm terribly sorry about that," he began, but the creature interrupted again before he could go on, squinting at them appraisingly.

"Earth people, are you? We don't get many of your kind in the Sigma Citadel," it said in tones of deep suspicion, tilting its antennae eyes forward for a better look. "What are you doing here?"

The Doctor rallied. "I wonder if you could help us," he said in his most determinedly charming tone, evidently not in the mood to waste time explaining that he wasn't, in fact, an Earth person. "You see, we've had a most unfortunate accident, and –"

"Accident?" snapped the attendant, beady eyes narrowing. "What accident? Any fuels consumed must be paid for, regardless of any accidents."

"Oh, but we haven't used any of your fuel," Sarah explained, hoping to mollify the creature, but instead it only sniffed at her in annoyance.

"Then your problems are not my concern. Good day." It went to slam the hatch closed again, only for the Doctor to catch at it, holding it open.

"Just a minute, what's the hurry?"

The creature glared. "Time is money and you are wasting mine."

"Then we'll be quick." The Doctor's tone and expression became severe; this was a mood he usually reserved for beings considerably more evil than unhelpful garage attendants. "We need assistance and you're the only person who can give it to us, I'm afraid."

"No, no, no," the attendant insisted. "That is not my function – go to an information point and register your complaint there, good day."

"Wait." The Doctor stopped it from closing the hatch once more. "Information point, you say. Is it far? You see, we don't have any transport, and our situation is rather urgent."

"No transport?" The creature's four eyes swivelled as it peered at them in surprise. "Then what are you doing here?"

"That's what we've been trying to tell you," said Sarah, exasperated. "We had an accident. We've lost our ship…"

She couldn't quite finish the sentence, because they'd lost more than just the TARDIS and the thought of it choked her.

"What do you mean, lost?" the creature demanded.

"It fell," said the Doctor, looking grim. "From the upper deck, I'm afraid."

"Littering!" The creature was horrified. "Littering is strictly forbidden!"

"It was an accident," Sarah hurriedly explained, beginning to despair of ever persuading this creature or anyone else to help them in any way. It was frustrating beyond belief – after everything they'd seen and done, so many adventures through time and space, battling all manner of evil and saving entire worlds…only to find themselves stranded and stymied in a place like this, not by any malevolent enemy but by the sheer disinterest of some random bystander. "And it wasn't just our ship that fell, we had a friend with us, and…"

Again she couldn't finish the sentence, couldn't bring herself to say the words out loud, had to press a hand to her mouth to stifle a sob that caught her off-guard, just when she'd thought she was in control of herself and ready to press on with whatever it might take to find out what had happened to Harry – and the TARDIS – after the fall.

The attendant was not sympathetic. "_All_ littering is strictly forbidden," it repeated, "Whether vehicular or organic detritus."

"Organic detritus?" It was the coldest, most horrible description of a dead body Sarah had ever heard, breathtakingly callous, bringing tears of fury to her eyes, because if Harry was dead – and she didn't know what to believe, couldn't quite bring herself to hope but also couldn't bear not to – then how dare this creature speak about him in that way.

The Doctor gently patted her shoulder and left his hand resting there as he quietly asked, "Is there any way we might find out what happened to them, either of them?"

"There has been no report of any collision," the attendant informed them with a sniff, and it was the first even vaguely helpful thing it had said.

"And you would know, if there had been?" the Doctor pressed.

"All honest citizens have a duty to report any incident, large or small. There have been no such reports; I'd have heard. Any debris that hits ground is removed – go to an information point and make enquiries there."

"How? We don't even know where the information point is," Sarah began to protest, but the Doctor was already shrugging this little problem off, taking her arm to steer her away from the booth.

"Yes, well, you've been most helpful, thank you. Come on, Sarah."

"Come where?" she fumed, beside herself with frustration and fury at the alien creature's refusal to help them.

"The nearest information point, of course," the Doctor calmly replied. He glanced around, wrinkling his nose, before adding, "We may have to hitch a ride."

"Hitchhiking is strictly forbidden," the attendant called after them.

"Well if you have any better ideas," said the Doctor, turning back to it, "Then I'm all ears."

"Your transportation issues are not my concern," said the attendant with a sniff.

"That's very kind of you," said the Doctor in his darkest tone. "Come along, Sarah. High time we were on our way."

dwdwdwdwdw

"Er…I don't mean to question your, er, mechanical ability," Harry ventured, watching as Ren delved into the wiring beneath another portion of the damaged console.

"But you will anyway," her sardonic voice drifted back to him.

"Well, shouldn't an accident of this nature be reported?" That was how it would work on Earth, at any rate – the police would be called, the vehicle would be removed to a garage for a professional repair, none of this do-it-yourself business, and he'd stand a chance of finding out what had happened to Sarah and the Doctor sooner rather than later. As it was, the thought that they were in the TARDIS and therefore at least partially protected was the only thing keeping him from outright panic.

They were in the TARDIS. They'd be all right. He just had to ride this out until he could find them – or until they could find him.

"Reported where?"

Surprised by the question, he floundered. "Well…to the authorities, I suppose."

Ren pushed out from beneath the console and looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "You wish to report that you jumped from a high rise into heavy traffic?"

Harry was indignant. "I did no such thing!"

"No? Then how did you come to fall from such a height – endangering more lives than your own, I might add?" she demanded, setting aside the tool she'd been using and taking another from his hand.

Harry scrubbed a hand through his hair and found it full of dirt and bits of glass, all tangled up in the curls. "It was an accident," he said, still piqued at the very suggestion that it may have been deliberate. "We'd just landed, and I stepped outside for a moment to see where we were – jolly fine view, I must say – and then…well, the ground seemed to just…fall away."

Ren gave him a look he'd seen often on Sarah's face, a look he generally interpreted as 'you idiot'. Shaking her head, she disappeared beneath the console once more. "What are you doing here, anyway, Earth man? Don't your kind usually stick to the Gamma Citadel?"

"My kind?"

"Earth people."

Harry sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "Do we?"

"You don't know much, do you?" Ren reappeared, frowning at him perplexedly. She went to work at something on the console and wrinkled her nose in distaste at the blood splattered across it. "Make yourself useful," she said. "Fetch the cleaner from that compartment to your left."

The compartment was easy enough to find. Identifying the desired item from within it was not. "Er…"

"You don't recognise a cleaner when you see one? Your hand is on it," said Ren in tones of deep exasperation. "Don't you know anything?"

Harry pondered how best to explain that he was a time traveller from, probably, the distant past, who'd landed on this world by sheer chance only moments before the accident that brought them together like this.

"It might be for the best," he ruefully admitted, giving up any hope of salvaging anything in the way of pride from this situation, "If you assume that I don't.

If the look on Ren's face was anything to judge by, nothing would give her greater pleasure.

"Are all Earth people as strange as you?" she asked as she took the sleek metal box from his hand, pressed a button and set it down on the console. The device took on a life of its own, running all over the control panel and then down onto the floor, sucking up the blood, broken glass and any other dirt and debris as it went along, tremendously efficient.

Whatever humans might live on this planet, Harry suspected, no doubt did so by choice and therefore presumably knew a great deal more about the place than he did – since meeting the Doctor, he sometimes felt that everyone he met knew more than he did, and he'd once considered himself an educated and reasonably knowledgeable man.

"I imagine not," he said with a sigh.

Ren switched the device off again and handed it back to him to put away, then settled at the control panel and began some kind of start-up sequence. "The answer to your question is yes," she said, flipping switches and studying readouts. "We should report this incident. But we shan't, even if the com were functional. An investigation is the last thing I need and too much time has already been wasted. Here, put these on. With the windshield broken our eyes will need protection."

She handed him a pair of goggles, pulling another set over her own eyes as the engine kicked in, sounding much healthier now. As they took off, lifting up from the rooftop Ren had set down on to conduct her repairs, a chill wind whipped up through the broken windshield, fierce enough that Harry was glad of the protection afforded by the goggles, uncomfortable though they were.

"Er…so where are we going, exactly?" he ventured as the vehicle headed out into the dizzying air traffic once more, rather anxious because she could be taking him just about anywhere and there wasn't a blessed thing he could do about it.

Ren looked almost amused. "Would the answer mean anything to you, Earth man who has confessed to knowing nothing?"

"Probably not," he admitted. "But I'd like to know anyway."

"I'm sure," said Ren, and her tone was sarcastic. "Well, when we get there, then you'll know."

dwdwdwdwdw

"There, that's it!" cried the Doctor, and Sarah tried peering over his shoulder again at the readout he'd been poring over, a complicated readout displayed on a small screen beneath a panel of the ductwork that linked the attendant's hut to the re-fuelling stations and pipework around the place; a maintenance point, apparently. The Doctor had made a beeline for it as soon as the attendant slammed his hatch shut after their conversation, and was now engrossed.

"What's what?" she tried asking, because this was the Doctor at his most inscrutably uncommunicative, either assuming she'd be able to make the same mental leaps as him or not caring that she couldn't. How he'd even known to look for this maintenance console here she didn't bother to ask. How did the Doctor know anything that he knew? He just did, he always did, and it was almost funny because it was so easy to take him for granted most of the time, to think of him just as _her friend, the Doctor_ and forget who he really was…but then at other times the gulf between her meagre two-and-a-half decades, human, and his however-many centuries, Time Lord, was laid bare, stark and glaring.

"The way out, of course," he said, as if it should be obvious.

"I thought we were hitching a lift?" It didn't usually bother her, this habit he had of speaking in riddles and talking over the heads of those not blessed with his mercurial alien intellect, but today was not like other days.

She should be used to this, she rather bitterly thought, the number of times she'd thought the Doctor was dead – but on every one of those occasions she'd been put out of her misery quickly, a few agonising moments of horrified grief followed by overwhelming relief. It had never dragged on like this, with no good reason not to fear the worst but no way of finding out for sure. Besides, how could anyone ever get used to the loss of their dearest friends?

The Doctor shook his head as he replaced the panel. "No need for that, we can take the chute again. Come on."

Getting back to the chute was every bit as hair-raising as the reverse journey had been, dodging traffic all the way, but at least this time she was prepared for the stomach-churning fall-that-wasn't. On a different day, it might even have been fun.

Instead of opening onto another level of the re-fuelling station, the chute this time took them down to a cross-section of wide, arching tunnels full of pipes and cables, the infrastructure that supported the station – maybe even linked it to other towers. The Doctor didn't explain, he simply picked a direction and set off, with long, confident strides, and all Sarah could do was scurry to keep up, hoping he knew where he was going and wishing he'd explain what he was thinking.

The tunnel was long, the way ahead too dark to see just how long, but the strip-lighting above their heads lit up as they approached so that they could see where they were putting their feet and then de-activated again once they had passed. As service tunnels went, it was probably the most hospitable of Sarah's now considerable experience.

"So we're heading for the information point, are we?" It seemed such a nebulous destination. They'd visited so many alien worlds, fought life-and-death battles for the most enormous of stakes, and now here they were struggling simply to raise the alarm for their lost friend and lost TARDIS. It might have been laughable if it weren't so sickening.

"An information point, certainly. Information is what we need – wouldn't you agree?" said the Doctor, leading the way swiftly and confidently.

"Well, I still think a telephone and the local equivalent of 999 is what we need!" she retorted. "I mean, this seems a civilised enough sort of place," unhelpful garage attendant notwithstanding. "They must have emergency services, surely. Someone will be able to help us."

"Possibly, possibly – I was thinking more that we might help ourselves. Ah, here we are." They'd reached a kind of T-junction and the Doctor stopped and lightly rapped his knuckles against the wall before using the sonic screwdriver to open a well-concealed panel and then sticking his head out.

Sarah waited, fidgeting.

"All clear. We'd better be quick, no point causing alarm – unless of course we want to cause alarm, but would that help or hinder us? That's the question."

He began to squeeze out through the narrow opening as he spoke and Sarah followed, wondering if there was a point to the nonsense he was blathering or if he was just talking to fill the space, as he so often did when there were larger subjects to be ignored. He was very subdued, by his standards, and that troubled her in ways that were hard to define.

"This is the information point, is it?" she pressed, fed up of being expected to just trail along after him without knowing where they were going or what he was planning. She wanted, quite desperately, to be able to _do_ something – but what?

"Well, in a manner of speaking, certainly." As the Doctor stood aside, she got her first look at where they were now.

"It's a shop." She stared in disbelief at the vast warehouse, crammed with aisles and shelving that seemed to stretch on forever, a riot of colour and sound and scent: discordant muzak blaring from unseen speakers, fast food vendors hawking enticingly scented alien wares, alien customers of every shape and size zooming around in flying trolleys, and holographic advertisements flashing neon and singing slogans. "You've brought me to a shop."

"A superstore, in fact," he mildly corrected, as if the distinction somehow mattered, and waved his arms in an expansive gesture, taking in the enormity of the place. "Bulk purchase for outgoing space vessels – that's big business on an outpost like this."

Anger bubbled up again, fierce and inescapable. "But why are we here? We can't exactly buy a new TARDIS, can we – or a new Harry!"

"Don't be silly, Sarah." Maddeningly, the Doctor refused to bite back, remaining utterly imperturbable; she envied that detachment, his most alien quality. "Information, remember – we're going to borrow a computer, this was the nearest we might find…ah, over there, I believe."

Instead of plunging into the kaleidoscope of sensory stimulation that was the store, he turned to quickly stride along the length of the outer wall until he reached a low archway, disappearing through it without as much as a backward glance.

Sarah bit back her frustration, because it wasn't helping and it wasn't his fault, and hurried after him, through the archway and into the quiet alcove that lay beyond, lined with a bank of sophisticated-looking computer terminals, with another door, firmly closed and labelled staff only, set into the wall at the far end.

The Doctor was already busily interrogating one of the computers, his fingers flying over the keypad at dizzying speed. "Not exactly the standard customer request, of course," he muttered rather more to himself than to her as he worked. "And then there's the question of how much information is made public at this level, but there should be a link to the central mainframe, if I can just –"

The console bleeped an angry warning that it wasn't going to be as simple as all that, and moments later a sharp voice rang out behind them. "What are you doing there?"

Sarah groaned. "Not again."

The Doctor sighed and shook his head, muttered an imploring, "I'm busy, Sarah," motioning for her to deal with it while he worked, and she reluctantly turned to see another alien glaring at them from that doorway at the far end of the alcove.

It was a different kind of alien than the unhelpful garage attendant they'd spoken to earlier – this one more-or-less humanoid, sallow-skinned with a long, double-pointed chin that curled upward to almost meet an equally long, double-pointed and downward-curved nose, the forehead heavily ridged; definitely female this time and smartly dressed, professional looking, her dark hair elaborately coiled – but the air of disapproval was exactly the same.

"You triggered an alert," the alien grumbled, and the sideways movement of her jaw when she spoke was fascinating. "What's wrong with you? The terminals are simple enough to use."

Sarah hesitated, wondering how to play this. The truth hadn't exactly gone over well so far. Still, there was nothing else for it, so she offered the woman a smile that was a good sight brighter than she felt. "Oh, hello, I wonder if you can help us. You see –"

She got no further, as the muffled sound of voices and musical slogans and the hum of trolley-engines from back in the store proper was suddenly drowned out by an outbreak of shouts and yells…and a sharp burst of weapons fire.

The alien executive's eyes widened comically.

"What's going on out there?" she gasped as Sarah whirled around to see dismay and exasperation warring on the Doctor's face as he straightened, listening intently.

"Doctor? What's happening?" Sarah scarcely dared imagine what might have gone wrong now.

"Is it a robbery?" The alien woman's voice was sharp, alarmed. "We're being robbed!"

dwdwdwdwdw

The view from the air car was quite remarkable, and Harry rather wished he could enjoy it more.

"You're very impatient, Earth man," Ren told him. "Stop fidgeting and enjoy the ride."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered under his breath. After all, he was trapped aboard this ship with no idea where he was, no way of finding out what had happened to Sarah and the Doctor, and even the benevolence of his rescuer appeared tenuous at best.

He fidgeted again, drumming his fingers nervously as he wondered just how far they were going to travel and how he might find his way back to wherever they'd started from to look for his friends. Then the engine stuttered and he clutched reflexively at the edge of his seat in alarm.

Ren muttered a curse beneath her breath and thumped the console hard with a fist, which appeared to resolve the problem. She smiled wolfishly at the look on his face. "Percussive maintenance – you did a lot of damage, Earth man, and all I've done is patch the worst of it."

"Er. I'm sorry." What more could he say?

Ren narrowed her eyes. "You might well be, if this goes badly."

That ominous statement did nothing to settle his nerves. He picked at a fingernail, peering out through the broken windshield once more at the spectacular aerial view, the air traffic thinning out as they moved into what appeared, to his foreign eyes, to be a rather more industrial area of the city, sparser than the previous district. There were fewer skyscrapers, for one thing, the buildings here much smaller and more compact, and despite the alien nature of the architecture and landscape it reminded Harry of nothing so much as the warehouse district of London. Yes, definitely an old industrial area, run-down and neglected.

Ren took the air car in low, her sharp eyes scanning the area below intently, but then pulled up again and carried on without stopping. She looked worried, which worried him in turn.

"Not there," she muttered under her breath, and shot a decidedly unfriendly look at him, accusingly adding, "I'm late."

"Late for what?" he asked, mindful to sound as polite and helpful as he could, given her mood.

"Not your concern," she snapped, and he frowned because that was patently untrue.

"But I am concerned," and he meant that in more ways than one. "I'm here, aren't I – I'm involved, like it or not."

"Here, yes – involved, no," Ren retorted. "My business is not yours, so be quiet and let me think."

She flipped at a few switches on the console, her frustration and anxiety growing visibly.

"Nothing works! We might as well be blind – if they've been snared because I was delayed…" The threat was implied, her fierce glare speaking volumes.

"Look, I'm sorry." Harry was tired of apologising now; it had been an accident, after all. "If I could go back and fall into someone else's vehicle instead I would!"

Ren snorted. "Be careful what you wish for, Earth man."

Her fingers drummed against the steering controls as she hissed out a long breath through her teeth, brow wrinkling in an expression of deep thought. Then she swung the vehicle around in a wide arc and swooped low for another recce.

"You claim involvement by virtue of being here?" she flung at him, sharp eyes scanning the area below intently. "Well then, so be it. My associates are not where they should be. I need to set down and check the area – you may assist. See just there, that was the rendezvous point. Good spot for an ambush, you agree? I warned Brunnal, but would he listen…" She broke off, half-standing to peer through the broken windshield in sudden alarm, hissing, "They are in trouble – I knew it, the idiots!"

Harry stood to take a look for himself, wondering what she'd seen. "Your associates? How can you tell?"

"I used my eyes," she snapped, and he could see it now: bodies, three of them, sprawled in unnatural, contorted positions with blood pooling around them, half-hidden in the shadows at the edge of a large forecourt around which stood a strange, three-sided building.

"Oh, I say. Those aren't your friends?" he spluttered in alarm as Ren set the vehicle down and removed her goggles. She rifled rapidly through a small compartment to the side of the control console, pulled out a gun and swung around to glower at him.

"Not my associates, no. Those are traders we were to deal with, dead, and my people are not here. You owe me a debt, Earth man."

Now more than ever, having seen those corpses, Harry felt rather concerned about just what this debt might entail. He had no real idea who this alien woman even was, or what she was involved in, still less what she might demand from him. "Yes," he cautiously said, removing his goggles. "I'm aware of that."

Ren's fierce glare drilled into him, unrelenting. "My associates are in trouble. They are in trouble because I was not where I should have been at the time agreed. I was not where I should have been for a number of reasons, the main one being you. So your debt is owed to them, also. Can you shoot?"

Harry was not expecting the question, and by the time it occurred to him that perhaps he should vacillate, his natural honesty had already said, "Yes," because he could, of course he could, he was a military officer…but he was also a doctor, his calling was to save life, not take it, and he stared in alarm as she held the gun out to him.

"Good, because my associates are in trouble and I have to do something about it. I will need backup for that, and all I have is you. So remember that you owe the debt."

How, he wondered, had his day turned out like this?

"Er…what exactly do you expect me to do with that?"

Ren rolled her eyes expressively. "Use it, of course – to defend yourself and to defend me." She thrust the gun into his hand and charged past him into the rear compartment.

Harry followed, wondering how to tell whether or not he was on the right side here. "Now hang on just a minute. Look, I might owe you my life, but no one else's. What kind of business is this?"

"None of yours," Ren snapped, slapping at a button to open an external door. "I'm going out to scout. Watch my back and guard the door."

He'd thought he was as worried as he could be before, when he was merely lost on an unknown world unable to find out what had become of his friends. Now he realised just how much more worried it was possible to become, because taking up arms under order from a commanding officer was one thing but this complete stranger was another matter entirely. Who was she, really? What kind of business was she mixed up in, that could turn out like this – and could she be trusted?

He stared at the gun in his hand, unlike any weapon he'd ever seen before – product of a technology that was as alien to him as Ren was.

She was taking quite a chance on the stranger who'd crashed into her vehicle, he pointed out to himself, and she was doing it because she was as concerned for her friends as he was for his. Whoever she was and whatever her business might be – legal, illegal or something else entirely – she had also saved his life, and for the time being at least he was almost completely reliant on her, he realised with chagrin. None of that could justify involvement in illegal or immoral proceedings, of course, but if she were in danger of some kind, he could hardly just stand by and do nothing.

_Watching brief it is, Sullivan_, he told himself. He would just to have to play this one by ear and just hope for the best.

So he watched cautiously through the open door as Ren stealthily crept up to the corpses to give them a cursory once over – checking that they were dead, satisfying herself of their identity – and then continued on in search of goodness only knew what.

She seemed to know what she was doing…but had it been wise to allow her out there alone, he wondered? Not his most shining moment, surely – what if whoever or whatever killed those traders was still out there somewhere, lying in wait?

No sooner had the thought occurred to him than he heard a sound from outside, and a moment later a strange alien creature appeared in the doorway. About the size of a Shetland pony, it resembled nothing so much as a giant, grey-brown lobster, with huge bulbous eyes on extendible stalks, vicious-looking mandibles and more legs, arms and claws than Harry could count. Catching sight of him, it let out a cry, rearing up as if to attack.


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

Guard the door, Ren had said. It was a sight easier said than done when Harry hadn't a clue how the blasted weapon she'd given him actually worked.

He brandished it at the giant lobster in the doorway anyway, hoping it might scare the creature off, and shouted, "Get away from there! Stay back!"

Much to his surprise, even as he spoke, the creature was already yelping out a fearful, "Intruder, intruder!" and they stared at one another in an impasse of mutual shock and confusion.

In the distance, Harry saw Ren turn around and head back, alerted by their shouts – and then all thought of the lobster creature before him left his head entirely, because he'd spotted a flicker of movement behind her.

"Oh, I say." He shoved the creature out of the way to dash forward, shouting a warning. "Ren! Watch out!"

She heard and dropped just in time, the lightning blast of some kind of laser weapon forking through the spot where she'd been standing just a second earlier…but now she was down and couldn't recover in time, and the sniper had her in his sights.

Too late to worry about how this gun might or might not work. Harry pointed what he hoped was its nose in the direction of the sniper and squeezed what he hoped was the trigger.

The shot missed, of course – unfamiliar weapon over too great a distance, and all that – but the sniper had to dive to avoid it anyway, and that gave Ren time to recover.

She shot the sniper herself, ruthlessly efficient, and came sprinting back to the air car, shouting. "Get aboard, Dilly! Where's Brunnal?"

Harry blinked. The lobster creature was one of her missing associates?

"There's an alien, what is it?" it squeaked, gesticulating in Harry's direction – every bit as unnerved by him, apparently, as he was by it.

"Never mind, get aboard! Go!" Ren bundled them both back into the air car and sealed the door. "Brunnal, Dilly – where is he?"

The giant lobster flailed. "Gone, taken – payload and cargo, too."

"The idiot," Ren seethed, charging toward the cockpit. "We're getting out of here. Hold tight!"

dwdwdwdwdw

"Robbed? The store is being robbed? We've walked into the middle of a robbery?" Sarah exclaimed in disbelief. "I don't believe it – no wait, yes I do. Of course I do. Just our rotten luck!"

"Timing is everything." The Doctor cautiously peered around the corner to see what was going on out there, his powerful frame filling the archway as he raised his voice to make himself heard above the noise of the disturbance out in the store. "And ours has been appalling today, wouldn't you agree, Sarah – but I don't believe a robbery is what's happening here. Listen." He whirled around to face the alien executive, who jumped at the intensity of his sudden focus on her. "What's your name?"

The executive blinked a strange, sideways blink, so surprised that she answered the question without thinking. "Valina. What do you mean, not a robbery?"

"I mean just what I say I mean and I thought my meaning was plain." There was an impatient edge to the Doctor's voice. "Which way are the checkouts?"

Looking dazed, Valina pointed, and then rallied to demand, "Are you part of it? A diversion? It won't work!"

"You're not thinking, Valina," said the Doctor. "Checkouts this way, disturbance that. Does this establishment deal in hard currency?"

"Of course not! Cash payment is outmoded and inefficient."

"Then payment is fully automated, exactly, and I'm sure there must be far easier ways of stealing goods, so why would any self-respecting robber waste their time here?" He offered his most charming smile. "Which means this must be something else entirely, and I think we should find out what – don't you?"

Valina stared, eyes widening. "A protest," she gasped. "But here? This is a high-end establishment!"

"What do you mean, protest – what kind of protest?" Sarah pushed alongside the Doctor in that narrow archway and poked her head out under his arm to take a quick peek.

It was a bit far to make out many details, but there seemed to be quite a crowd gathering, away near to a larger opening that must be a way in and out of the store: a messy, disorganised mass of seething discontent. She could hear shouted slogans of some kind, and also heckling and jeering – angry protestors versus hard-hearted and indifferent customers and staff? No one seemed to be actively threatening anyone, so perhaps that burst of weapons fire had been about attracting attention only…but Sarah had been a journalist long enough to know how easily a so-called peaceful protest could escalate.

"Dissident residents, of course, from the slum districts – the protests have been all over the news channels, haven't you seen them?" Valina looked from Sarah to the Doctor and back again, perplexed. "But this is the business sector, off-world trade, nothing to do with them – this can't happen here!"

The Doctor offered her a sympathetic smile. "I'm sorry, Valina, but I rather think you'll find that it can. Why do the residents protest?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"Well, they're going to a lot of trouble, exposing themselves to considerable risk – they must have a grievance of some kind."

Sarah saw where this was going and her heart sank. "We're supposed to be looking for Harry, Doctor."

She felt guilty even as she said it, because something was wrong here and every investigative, journalistic instinct she possessed was pricking up, demanding to know more…but how could she care about any of that, until they knew what had happened to Harry – and yet how could they not prioritise the bigger picture?

She read similar conflict on the Doctor's face as he glanced back at the computer terminals and then out into the store again. "Those protestors out there are armed, Sarah, someone could get hurt – and besides, they're blocking our exit."

"The militia will already be on their way," Valina helpfully interjected, a rather more severe note entering her voice as she added, "Customers are not advised to approach the protestors – let the militia handle it."

"Militia? Armed militia for a civil disturbance?" The Doctor's eyes just about popped right out of his head. "No wonder the protestors carry arms. This could turn into a bloodbath."

"They often do." Valina sounded scared. "But always in the outlying districts, in the slums, never here – we have customers, off-world traders. What's going to happen?"

Sarah looked at the Doctor's face and knew exactly what he wanted to do: go out there and intercede, try to talk the protestors down before it was too late, try to talk the militia down, before the situation could escalate…but they were supposed to be looking for Harry, and where earlier, immediately after the fall, she'd been tormented by visions of him splattered all over the ground two miles below, now she found herself picturing him clinging onto a ledge somewhere, waiting to be rescued – couldn't shake the nagging fear that every moment they delayed increased the chances of him losing his grip and falling again.

They simply had to look at the bigger picture here, she told herself. This could turn ugly at any moment. Besides, there were two of them.

"You should go," she told the Doctor, quickly, before she could change her mind. "Talk to them, see what you can do. I can finish up here."

His face lit up. "That's the spirit, Sarah. Valina can show you what to do."

Flashing a grin that wasn't the slightest bit reassuring, he took off into the store at a run, and as he disappeared from sight Sarah felt a chill of panic run down her spine because they'd already lost Harry and the Doctor had said it himself, this could turn into a bloodbath – and over what? They didn't even know.

"Hey, and be careful," she shouted after him, wanting to go with him, to help, to not let him out of her sight…but also knowing that they needed to finish this, to find Harry – and the TARDIS.

"What does he think he's going to do?" Valina wondered. "Is he mad?"

Now that was a can of worms Sarah had no intention of opening. She turned to face the woman, grimly setting her resolve, because whatever might be happening out there in the store, whatever danger the Doctor was walking into, they had a job to do right here and the quicker the better.

"Valina. Can you show me how these computer things work?"

Valina blinked that strange, sideways blink of hers, more confused than ever. "There are armed protestors out there, uproar, the militia on their way…and you're concerned about registering your complaint, claiming back credit?"

"The protestors are out there, not back here, and the Doctor's dealing with them, which means we have time and this is important," Sarah insisted. "Our friend fell off the top of the re-fuelling station next door, and I need you to show me how I can find out what happened to him. The Doctor mentioned a link to the central mainframe – how do I access it?"

Valina stared at her. "How can anyone fall off a re-fuelling station?"

Sarah sighed. "It's easier than you might think."

dwdwdwdwdw

Dilly the giant lobster stared in dismay at the damage to the cockpit area. "What under the suns of high heaven happened here?"

"The Earth man happened," said Ren, and Dilly turned curious eyes upon Harry, head tilting to look him up and down while a myriad of tiny antennae wafted and wiggled in his direction as if sniffing him out.

"What kind of creature is that?"

He might very well ask the same question himself, he thought, shuffling awkwardly – he couldn't even tell if Dilly was male or female, and then wondered if the distinction was even relevant to such a creature.

"Have you never seen an Earth person before?" Ren's grumble was accompanied by an expressive eye roll. "Dilly, what happened back there?"

The intensity of Dilly's fascinated stare made Harry squirm – especially when the creature sidled closer to poke at him with an oversized claw. "Earth man," it repeated in prim, precise tones. "Is it supposed to look like that? What did you do to our shuttle, Earth man?"

This 'Earth man' business was beyond a joke now. Harry decided that enough was enough. "Harry," he corrected, in the firmest tone he could muster. "My name is Harry. And, er, it was an accident, really."

"He dropped out of the sky and into our lives," Ren impatiently explained. "Talk to me, Dilly. What happened back there?"

A shudder ran through Dilly's bulky, chitinous frame. "Ambush – they were waiting for us, they knew the deal was going down. They knew when, they knew where. Someone squealed, they must've…"

"Who?" demanded Ren. "Who attacked you? Think, Dilly. Calm down and think."

Dilly quailed. "It was the Shad!"

Ren cursed, at length. "Shad! But the Shad don't operate here."

"They do now."

"Since when?"

"I don't know. They were there, they knew, they were waiting!"

"And they took Brunnal?" Ren cursed again, as agitated as Harry had seen her yet.

He looked from one to the other, confused. "Er…I'm not sure I entirely understand."

"Of course you don't, you've not understood a thing since I've known you," Ren grumbled, and he might have been offended if he hadn't known perfectly well it was true. "The Shad are trouble, understand that. How did you escape, Dilly?"

"I ran, of course," said Dilly, as if it should be obvious. "I hid – I knew they'd left a man. I lost track of him. I was hiding, waiting for you, you were late. Just look at this mess!"

Chitinous claws and delicate antennae began to examine the damaged control console, far more dextrous than Harry could ever have imagined.

"Sat-com is down," said Ren. "Scanners, too – it was as much as I could do to get her in the air again. Can you repair it? To track Brunnal?"

"Of course I can repair it." A note of scornful pride came into the giant lobster's voice. "Just be quiet and keep flying, I'm working."

Ren made scoffing sound of exasperation and then cast an appraising glance at Harry. "Dilly's right. You can't be seen like that – go back there, wash, change, while you have the chance. Go."

The unexpected command took Harry completely by surprise. He glanced down at a suit that had been pristine when he put it on, now torn in a dozen places and stiff with dried blood.

Perhaps Ren had a point.

He went through to the living area and looked around, pulling off his goggles as the door closed behind him, cutting off the ferocity of the wind whipping through the broken windshield. Wash and change, she'd said, which meant there were facilities and clothes and they couldn't be that hard to find, surely.

A murmur of low voices from the cockpit told him that Ren and Dilly were taking the opportunity for a private conversation, but he couldn't make out any words through the closed door, and focused instead on exploring the cupboards. His search failed to turn up anything enlightening about their rather shady-seeming business dealings, but he did manage to locate a small wardrobe compartment, and was delighted to have not had to ask. Some of the clothes were very odd, certainly not intended for a humanoid shape, but there were a number of flight suits not unlike the one Ren had on, and he rifled through for one that looked to be about the right size, pulled it out and turned to look for a wash stand of some kind.

Further exploration revealed what appeared to be a tiny bathroom. The first thing Harry saw when he opened the door was his own reflection in a mirror opposite: blood matted in his hair, clothes torn and stained…yet not a trace remained of any actual injury, not so much as a twinge, and he marvelled again at the technology that had healed him so completely.

He turned on what appeared to be a tap and nothing happened.

It had been that sort of day all round, really.

"Can't even turn on a tap, eh, Sullivan," he muttered to himself, frowning at it, because a tap was a tap, surely, even in a futuristic society like this. How hard could it be?

He tried waving a hand under the nozzle and felt a strange tingle, pulled his hand back and then marvelled all over again because it was suddenly clean – even the dried blood crusted under his fingernails had gone.

So this tap didn't offer water, but something else that did the same job? Well, it wasn't the strangest thing he'd encountered since meeting the Doctor.

"Right-oh, then," he remarked aloud and set about cleaning up as best he could…an awkward business involving quite complex contortions to get various bits of his body beneath that invisible stream to wash all the blood off. It was a good job Sarah wasn't here to see it, or she'd never stop laughing…

But a moment later he knew he'd let Sarah laugh at him as much as she pleased, if it meant she were here, safe and sound – her and the Doctor. And he wished again that he knew what had become of them.

dwdwdwdwdw

"I could lose my job!" Valina protested. "These terminals are for customer support only, they aren't authorised for full access to the mainframe."

"But the Doctor said there was a link," Sarah insisted. "If you show me how, you won't have to do it yourself, you won't get into trouble."

"We're not supposed to override the protocols, I could lose my job!" Valina looked distraught just at the thought of it.

"I could lose my friends," Sarah fiercely countered. "And my home. Please – no one will know, not with everything else going on. Just listen to it out there."

She was trying hard, herself, to shut her ears to the noise from out in the store, because it sounded as if the militia might have arrived and that was alarming, the situation out there on a real knife-edge, but she had a job to do and she couldn't focus on it if she was worrying about the Doctor.

He was good at this. He'd be fine, and so would everyone else.

Valina hesitated, fidgeting nervously, and Sarah's patience suddenly snapped. "Look, my friend had a terrible accident, and all I want is to find out what happened to him – I don't understand why no one will let me, why no one will help!"

It was all linked somehow, she was certain of it now: the dissidents, the protests, the militia, the utter unhelpfulness of the place, the close-minded disinterest they seemed to encounter at every turn – something rotten at the core of this civilised-seeming world that appeared not to have as much as a spark of compassion anywhere.

Until now, anyway. Valina suddenly made up her mind and caught at Sarah's hand, almost breathless with her own daring. "Come with me, quickly, before we're seen."

She used the ID pass hooked onto her belt to open the staff only door and ushered Sarah through into the area beyond, where the sound of near riot from out in the store was muted but still audible. A giant slug-like creature promptly came rushing at them, squealing like a stuck pig. "Have you seen what's happening out there? Have you seen what's happening? Here! What is the world coming to?"

It rushed off again, still squealing, and Valina started breathing again. "If he reports that I brought you back here…"

"You're really afraid," Sarah realised. "I mean, I like my job well enough, but…would they really fire you, just for helping me search for my friend after an accident?"

Valina's eyes were wide and scared. "This area is strictly off limits to all customers."

"Oh, but surely –"

"Breach of regulation is not tolerated, on any account. Everyone has a place, a purpose, and must hold to that." Valina pushed her into a small office, locked the door and activated a computer terminal. "Without that purpose you're nothing – one of them."

"The dissidents, you mean?" Sarah tried to understand.

"You really don't know?"

"Just arrived – why don't you tell me?"

"This is the business sector, off-world trade – what am I looking for here?"

"Oh, er – accident reports, has anything been seen falling near to the re-fuelling station, or…I don't know…recovered from the ground beneath it? We're looking for two things: our friend and our vehicle. It looks like a big blue box."

Valina tapped in the search. "I was saying, this is the business sector – off-world trade, tourism – to be employed here is to be secure. This is a strictly regulated zone; deviation from standard protocol is prohibited, for the comfort and safety of all. I don't know how they managed to get weapons up here…"

Sarah thought perhaps she could see where this was leading. "What about the rest of the people – the ones who don't work in the business sector?"

"Not so fortunate," was all Valina would say. "And I have no wish to join them. There is not much little information here. Traffic reports, complaints about erratic flight patterns – oh, this may be it." She squinted myopically at the screen. "Reports of two minor collisions and collection of debris from ground level –"

"What kind of debris?" That garage attendant's comments about 'organic debris' were suddenly ringing in Sarah's ears again and she held her breath, biting at her lip and steeling herself for the worst while Valina studied the screen.

"A big blue box, you said? Yes, this is it – collected and removed to waste depot, I can give directions. Undamaged, it appears." She sounded surprised. "I thought you said it fell from the top of the re-fuelling station?"

"The TARDIS, that's the TARDIS." Sarah started breathing again. "What about Harry – our friend? He was standing just next to it when the platform gave way – is there anything…?"

Valina shook her head, frowning at the screen as she tapped away at it the keypad. "There are no reports listed – nothing organic recovered at ground level, only two minor collisions and both relate to the box, no clinical admissions, no sightings reported – not a trace. I don't know where your friend is, I'm sorry."

"But that's a good thing, surely." Sarah felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off her chest, as if she were breathing properly for the first time in what felt like hours. "I mean, he can't have just disappeared, so if he didn't reach the ground then he's still out there, somewhere – alive."

dwdwdwdwdw

The borrowed flight suit was rather more form-fitting than Harry was used to, but he had to admit that he felt a whole lot better just for having been able to freshen up a little.

He'd also made a decision.

"Back already," Ren grumped with a sardonic little snort as he returned to the cockpit, but he ignored her grumbling in favour of getting down to business.

"Why don't you tell me about these, er…Shad, I think you said?"

She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. "Why?"

He thought about the Doctor and Sarah, then, impossibly far away as they seemed. He'd have liked nothing better than to leave these troublesome alien beings to their own devices and see about getting back to his friends, but the situation was what it was. And, as Ren was so fond of reminding him, he did owe that debt.

"Look, we've already agreed that I'm not going anywhere until this is over," he pointed out, settling into a seat alongside her at the helm. "So I may as well lend a hand, since I'm here, and it'll be a sight easier if I understand what's going on. So why not tell me?"

"The Shad are pirates!" Dilly's shrill, squeaky voice piped up and the giant lobster appeared from beneath a console. "They're pirates – moving in on _our_ patch!"

"Pirates?" Harry wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, exactly, but it certainly wasn't that.

"And now they have Brunnal – our cargo too – our contacts are dead…"

"The sat-com, Dilly," said Ren in a tone that brooked no refusal, and Dilly made a low, rumbling sound almost like a growl, disappearing beneath the console again.

"It's coming – I'm nearly there!"

"Then finish it so we can find Brunnal. Resolving this business so we can all get out of here is more important than satisfying the Earth man's curiosity," Ren snapped, and that was another point.

"Yes, what is your business, exactly?" Harry wanted to know, undeterred by the fierce glare she turned upon him since it was fairly clear by now that her bark was worse than her bite and it seemed the sort of thing he ought to know, really, if he was to remain with them – not that he had a great deal of say in that matter. "Look, you might as well tell me. There's not a lot else to do, is there, until the repairs are complete."

There was a pause, and then Ren looked him in the eye and said, "We are traders," in such a flat, bland tone that it was clear she wasn't telling the whole truth.

"Traders?"

"Yes." She'd turned away again, staring fixedly out at the traffic ahead. "We procure necessary goods for those unable to acquire them by any other means."

Her tone was defiant, almost daring him to take issue with this statement. Harry thought about it for a moment, thought about her reluctance to report their accident or seek official help of any kind, her caginess where this ill-fated business deal was concerned, that deadly shoot-out back at the rendezvous she'd missed, the so-called Shad pirates…

"There! Sat-com is up, running and receiving."

Dilly's triumphant declaration was accompanied by a flurry of movement as the giant lobster pushed out from beneath the console to poke at the controls on the panel above, while Ren eagerly turned to do likewise, allowing whatever kind of automatic pilot this vessel ran, freshly repaired, to take over the helm. Forcing Harry to lean back out of the way as they reached across him from either side, they slapped one another's appendages aside as they worked, each getting in the other's way in their eagerness, and a small screen lit up with an array of electronic text and images, scrolling in every direction.

"Junk, junk, automated message – what's that, a fine? What did you do?" Dilly shrilled.

"Erratic flying," Ren read off the screen with a huff of disgust. "The Earth man had just crashed into me, navigation was offline; of course my flight pattern was erratic! So this vehicle is now on the official radar, just what we need. I hate this world. We'll find Brunnal, Dilly, and that's it. We're never doing business here again."

"Brunnal won't agree," said Dilly, still tapping busily away at the console. "This is a lucrative market. He won't let the Shad take it without a fight."

"Then let us hope we can locate and retrieve him alive and intact to make that argument," Ren snapped as Harry's suspicions crystallised into a rather unpleasant certainty. Goods for those unable to acquire them by any other means, she'd said, and it was all far too shady to be legitimate.

"Smugglers," he breathed. "You're smugglers; that's your business."

Ren's indignant glare blazed into him. "Does that concern you?"

He wasn't about to back down, no matter how annoyed she was that he'd put two and two together. "Well, it does rather. Look, I don't know what the situation is on this world, but if you're taking advantage of the people here –"

"We always offer a fair price!" Dilly insisted, while Ren coldly added, "The people of this world have certain needs, which cannot be met through official channels."

"What kind of needs?" Harry wanted to know, deeply suspicious of what he'd so inadvertently become mixed up in. "What sort of goods do you supply?"

"Whatever is needed, and unlike you we don't ask questions," Ren snapped. "We supply a need to pay our way. So who are you and what is your business, that you should criticise mine?"

"I'm a naval officer and a doctor," he proudly told her. "My job is to defend my people and to heal the sick and injured, not take advantage of them."

"I take advantage of no one but the fools who govern this world and others like it, driving their people into the dirt," Ren almost spat, and then scornfully added, "Healing? Why would a person be needed for that when a healing unit would suffice?"

A high-pitched, insistent bleeping from the console interrupted and both Ren and Dilly leapt back to the controls, their urgency telling its own story.

"We have a trace – Brunnal's sub-dermal."

"Where?"

Dilly's dextrous claws and antenna delicately manipulated the controls. "I'm getting a fix…there it is!" The creature's voice was shriller than ever with the excitement of this success. "Got him! Coordinates coming through."

"Got them." Tapping out a rapid sequence on the navigation control panel, Ren let out a deep sigh that was pure relief. "He's alive, then, and on-world still."

"But with the Shad." Dilly's relief was tempered by fear now that the first wave of exhilaration had passed, that sharp, scratchy voice quavering more than a little. "What do we do?"

Ren's face settled into an expression of implacable determination. "We go and get him, what else is there? So what of it, Earth man?" She swivelled in her seat to fix fierce eyes upon Harry once more. "You disapprove of our dealings so much – must we waste time dropping you off at the first landing point we see and leave you there to find your own way? Or are you with us? Can we rely on your support?"

Harry hadn't expected to be given a choice and the suddenness of the question was almost breathtaking, bringing with it the welcome prospect of finally breaking free of these alien beings and their dodgy dealings and starting the search for the Doctor and Sarah at last…somehow. The TARDIS had fallen from such a tremendous height – he simply had to find out what had happened to them, if they were all right.

But how?

Both Ren and Dilly had their eyes – and possibly various other sensory appendages – fixed on him, waiting for his decision. Dilly was visibly agitated, claws clicking and antenna twitching, while Ren remained steely and impassive…but he knew her well enough now, after spending the last few hours together in fairly intense circumstances, to read anxiety in her eyes and tension in her upright bearing.

What little he knew about their illicit business dealings was anathema to him. He couldn't envisage any way in which such an enterprise wouldn't involve taking advantage of the needy, or any way in which such illegal trade could possibly be justified…and yet. They'd been good to him when they really needn't have, if they truly were such rogues, and their concern for their friend struck a chord, anxious as he was for his own. Something deep in his gut wanted to trust them, even though all logic and sense demanded otherwise – and one thing he'd certainly learned on these travels with the Doctor was to trust his instincts.

"I owe you a debt," he slowly reminded Ren, but she shook her head.

"The debt is paid. Your warning at the yard saved my life." There was an odd look about her now, equal parts wary and suspicious and worried, and the honesty of this statement disarmed him completely.

"This is a rescue mission," he said, and realised as he said it that there wasn't actually a decision to be made, because it was as simple as that: smugger or not, a man's life was in danger, and it simply wasn't in him to ignore that. "If I can help, then I will."

"Good, then we can go, quickly! Well done, Earth man!" Dilly chittered, with a funny little hop of agitated excitement that made Harry smile in spite of it all.

Ren's posture remained stiff and her expression impassive, but he saw relief in her eyes, slight but real. She may not think that much of him, but in an emergency it was all hands to the pump, after all. "I'm sure we can find something for you to do," was all she said.

"But then I really must find my own friends," he quickly added. "They could be in danger too."

Dilly's head tilted. "What friends?"

Ren nodded. "It is agreed. You will help us retrieve Brunnal and we will help you locate your people."

"What people?" Dilly looked back and fore between them, perplexed.

"Later, Dilly," dismissed Ren, pulling at the steering control. "Let's go."

dwdwdwdwdw

Clutching the print-out Valina had given her and buoyed by hope for the first time since the ground had disappeared from beneath her feet, Sarah rushed back out into the store to re-join the Doctor…just in time to see one of the protestors hurling something at the armed militia confronting them – and the soldiers opening fire in retaliation.

Her heart skipped a beat. The Doctor was in the middle of all that, somewhere.

"No!"

She began to run, to plunge herself into the melee in search of him, when a strong hand caught hold of her arm and yanked her behind a stack of shelves nearby. For a moment she almost believed it was him…but it was Valina.

"What are you doing, do you want to die?" the alien woman hissed.

"The Doctor's out there." Sarah's fear lent ferocity to her voice. "I don't know where he is, I can't see him –"

She broke off, because she could hear him now, that powerful voice booming out through the shouts and screams and gunshots. "Stop this! Stop this! This is madness!"

"That's the Doctor! He's still out there." She poked her head around the shelf unit to see what was happening, only for Valina to pull her back again.

"There is nothing you can do."

Sarah shook her off. "No, I have to do something. Let me see."

The shooting, at least, was over already and what she saw as she peered around the edge of the shelves was a scene of bloody chaos, the forecourt near to the entrance strewn with bodies, while those few protestors still standing were being rounded up by fierce, implacable soldiers, helmeted and anonymous and heavily armed.

There was that icy fist again, clutching mercilessly at her heart. So many dead and he'd been right there, in the thick of it.

"Oh, Doctor, where are you?" she murmured, and she didn't even care if it was safe, pushed out of this refuge anyway, because she had to find him, that was all that mattered.

"Wait." Again Valina caught at her arm, and she might have argued some more, pulled away and gone charging on over there into the fray, except that she could see him now, alive and on his feet and being arrested, and a wave of relief washed over her.

He'd seen her, too, and caught her eye, his shaggy curls dancing as he shook his head; it was only the slightest of movements but enough – a warning for her not to intervene.

Sarah had never been one for following orders and wanted, with every fibre of her being, to pay him no heed, to carry on over there and get arrested right alongside him, because at least they'd be together…but she knew he was right. She'd be able to achieve far more free than captive – in theory, at least.

So she watched as he was taken away with the other prisoners and tried to tell herself that it would be fine. She could find out where they were taking him and go after them, rescue him if he hadn't talked his way free already, and then they'd find Harry together and then they'd find the TARDIS together and it would be over, they could leave this stupid, hostile world and never come back.

Right?

She turned to Valina and found her staring at the carnage with the shocked, horrified expression of one who'd never witnessed violent death up close until now.

"They shouldn't have done it," the alien woman whispered, wide eyed, as relief teams began flooding into the store to clear away the corpses and round up witnesses, frightened staff and customers slowly trickling out of their hiding places. "Why did they do it? They must have known how it would end."

"Perhaps they did," Sarah told her, watching warily as stern-looking officials headed their way. "Perhaps they thought it was worth it."

"Worth this?" protested Valina in tones of deep distress, but then the militia were upon them and she rallied, every inch the snooty executive once more as she railed at them for allowing such a thing to happen here, in this high end establishment, disturbing and upsetting the customers.

And the staff, she didn't need to add.

The militia wanted witness statements. With the Doctor already well and truly off the premises and out of sight, Sarah surrendered herself to the process on the theory that she might learn something from it, such as where he had been taken, and opted not to identify herself as his friend on the principle that it might defeat the object of not getting herself arrested with him in the first place. Yes, she'd been in the store when the protest broke out, no, she hadn't really seen anything – "I'd gone to customer services, you see, in that alcove back there, and then I hid until it was over" – and if there was a slightly sticky moment or two when they wondered what a human was doing in this citadel, it was nothing she couldn't handle. If there was one thing any investigative journalist worth her salt learned early on in her career, it was how to bluff her way out of being caught someplace she shouldn't be. It was a skill that had come in handy many times, even before she met the Doctor.

It was all worthless in the end, though, because she couldn't find out anything at all about where he had been taken. And it wasn't as if she had any way of getting there, even if she had, stuck way up here in this immense skyscraper, high above the ground.

Sarah had had to make shift for herself on more alien worlds than she could count, but she couldn't remember when she'd ever felt quite so alone.

"Are you all right?" It was Valina, come back to check up on her, and that unexpected gesture of concern from someone she'd initially thought so cold touched her deeply.

Sarah sighed. "Not really. Harry's disappeared into thin air, the Doctor's been arrested – and I'm stuck here at the local cash and carry –"

"This store does not accept cash," Valina pedantically corrected.

"…on a world I don't even know the name of," Sarah glumly finished, and Valina stared at her in surprise.

"How can you not know where you are?"

"I've been a bit busy falling off tall towers to ask! I just…if I knew where the Doctor was taken, perhaps I might find a way to get there, but…oh, where would I even begin?"

Valina studied her for a moment, her expression confused but concerned. "This world is called Skyrn," she said at length in a carefully neutral tone. "It was bio-formed for the support and maintenance of types two through six life-forms a little over fifty standard cycles ago, established as an outpost for trade and tourism. And there are few enough places where a political prisoner might be processed – it would not be hard to determine where those arrested here were taken."

It was a statement of fact rather than an offer of help, but nonetheless Sarah seized upon it for the hope that it promised. "Can you show me?"

"You should not interfere," Valina cautioned, and she looked deeply shaken still, beneath her surface veneer of cool composure. "The penalties for such affray will be severe."

"But the Doctor wasn't part of it, you know that," Sarah argued. "He went out there to help. He was trying to save lives –"

"And he failed." It was a harsh statement of truth and it hit Sarah like a slap to the face.

"We can't always win," she unhappily admitted. "But at least he was willing to try, which is more than anyone else did. So now I have to help him."

Valina hadn't wanted to help before, but her conscience had won out in the end. Now again she visibly wrestled with herself. "You are very fond of your friends," she said at last.

"Yes," Sarah quietly replied. "I am. Harry's almost like a brother," and there was another stab of pain at the thought of what might have happened to him. "And the Doctor is…" She didn't know how to even begin to explain what the Doctor was to her, could only stupidly say, "Well, he's the Doctor."

"The store is now closed," said Valina. "All customers and staff are dismissed for the day – there is damage to be repaired –"

"Blood to mop up," Sarah pointedly added.

"But there may be some little time before the doors are locked. We will see what information we can find."

dwdwdwdwdw

"There. That's the one," said Ren as she brought the shuttle in low and slow past a complex that, to Harry's human eyes, resembled nothing so much as those government buildings that had been thrown up in England during the 1950s and '60s: a squat concrete block, no more than three stories high – tiny, by the standards of the sky-rises he'd seen earlier. This was a different part of the citadel entirely.

The missing Brunnal, it seemed, was somewhere inside this particular building, held captive. As the shuttle ascended to land on a flat roof a little further on, Ren offered her assessment: "Abandoned factory or office unit, perhaps – slums like this are full of them – could be worse."

"It could be a lot better, for my money," Dilly glumly countered.

Not feeling that he had a great deal to add to the discussion, stranger to this world that he was, Harry kept quiet and listened as they debated the point.

"There's no sign of external fortification," said Ren. "They've not been here long, then – a temporary hideout, perhaps."

"Or it could be just one of many."

"Or that," she conceded.

"And there'll be guards in there, security measures," Dilly pointed out.

"No doubt."

"You know they will expect for us to come for him."

"They'd be fools if they don't at least anticipate that we might."

"Then what do we do? We need a plan."

Harry stood to peer out through the broken windshield again, across to where the building in question stood. "Well, a plan of the layout in there would be a good start," he offered, in an effort to contribute, and both aliens turned to look at him as if they'd forgotten he was there.

"The Earth man makes a good point," Ren conceded. "So let us see: is that scanner-rig of yours up to it, Dilly?"

Dilly chittered, and Harry couldn't tell if the creature was frightened or indignant, but, "Check central records also, there may be blueprints filed," was the only response, rather sniffily said, and Ren nodded.

A short spell of rapid work later and they had a complete floor-plan, the original blueprints somehow pulled from the citadel authority and augmented by Dilly's scanning device, displayed as a holographic image. Harry was impressed.

"There are security monitors," and Dilly pointed them out. "Thermal imaging shows lifeforms at _these_ locations – and Brunnal's sub-dermal places him _here_."

"Always supposing he is still attached to it," Ren dourly remarked, and Dilly chittered nervously again.

"We need support for this, back up – we are outnumbered, outgunned."

"There's back up?" It came as a surprise to Harry that this might actually be an option.

"No, there's no time," said Ren, ignoring him completely. "The others are three systems away. No, we must move now – or never."

Another anxious, fretful chitter. "This should have been a milk run, Ren: supplies for the rebels and away."

"Yes, and if we'd known the Shad had moved in we'd have planned the run differently, but we must deal with the situation that is," Ren snapped, as Harry's ears pricked up.

"What rebels?" he asked, curious to know how this snippet of information tied in with what he already knew, but Ren ignored him again, staring intently at the patterns of the floor plan – the static symbols of the security devices and shifting images of the lifeforms moving about in there.

"They have Brunnal," she slowly said. "And they've seen you, Dilly. They can trace that link back to me; one glimpse of either one of us would trigger an alert. But the Earth man is an unknown, with no such affiliation…"

And then both Ren and Dilly were regarding Harry with appraising eyes – and various other sensory appendages, Dilly's antennae wiggling and claws clicking – and he began to feel apprehensive once more.

"Er, yes?"

"I have an idea," said Ren, and she began to outline her plan.

It was a crazy plan.

dwdwdwdwdw

"I will take you as far as the vehicle bay near the detention centre," Valina said as she hurried Sarah out of the store. "But no further, I cannot be seen helping you further than that."

"Of course – I'm grateful, thank you," said Sarah, scurrying to keep up with the pace the other woman was setting. Truth be told, the offer of a lift was more than she'd dared hope for.

"I've my family group to think of," Valina fiercely continued, swiping her ID card through a reader to open a door out into what appeared to be a staff car park – or vehicle bay, or whatever they were called. "There are children – and too few incomes already. We cannot afford to lose mine. This is my vehicle here."

Sarah clambered aboard and distracted herself from worrying about her missing menfolk on the journey to the detention centre by asking questions about Valina's people and their family group structure, fascinated despite her other concerns by this insight into an alien race and culture, in which an entire extended family pulled together as a single economic unit. To Sarah, who'd only ever had Aunt Lavinia to call her own, it sounded incredible. They were not native to this world, she learned – no one was, this society was a melting pot of different alien races, all attracted by the potential the outpost had seemed to offer.

"How long ago did your family come here?" she asked.

"Oh, a good many cycles now. It was our fresh start – security and opportunity. Or so we thought, but…"

"But the reality didn't quite live up to the dream?"

"I suppose we should have known," Valina said with a sigh.

"If it seems too good to be true…" Sarah softly replied, gazing through the window at the spectacular aerial view.

"For some the economy functions as intended," Valina immediately defended. "There are many who prosper here, with great comfort and wealth."

"But not enough," said Sarah. "We've seen that today, with the protest – those people must be desperate, surely, to go to such lengths."

Valina's face darkened. "They are fools. What do they hope to achieve?"

"I don't know," Sarah admitted, and she wished now that she'd been able to talk to some of the protestors, or at least that she'd listened more carefully to the slogans and demands they'd been shouting – at least then she might have some idea of what they were trying to achieve. "But I do know that when you are caught at the wrong end of an oppressive or unjust system, sometimes fighting back is the only option – it's might be hard, but sometimes it's the only hope for a better future."

"If you die fighting there is no future," said Valina. "So who benefits? No one. Better for all to mind their own business and be grateful for what they have. The system cannot be fought. It is pointless."

"Then why are you helping me?"

Valina did not reply and for a moment there was silence. "We are here," she quietly said at last, manoeuvring the air car into another large vehicle bay to park up in the darkest, emptiest corner available, quiet and unobtrusive. "This is where I leave you – wait, be sure no one sees you leaving this vehicle."

"Still afraid someone might think you're endorsing sedition if you're seen helping me?" But that was unfair, Sarah told herself, and she softened her tone to add, "Well, thank you for bringing me this far, anyway, I am grateful. I don't know how I'd have got here otherwise." She hesitated, looking around trying to plan her next move. "Um…so how do I get to the detention centre from here?"

"Wait, keep quiet – get down, hide!" Valina was suddenly on alert, ducking down to hide as another vehicle zoomed into their dark, quiet corner and Sarah followed suit. Best not to take any chances, not now she'd come this far.

It sounded as if a whole group of people were getting out of the other vehicle. They were being quiet, though, and furtive. Crouched low beneath the control console of Valina's vehicle, the scent of engine oil and grease filling her nose and something sharp digging uncomfortably into her back, head bent at an awkward sideways angle, Sarah strained her ears trying to make out words from the muttered conversation she could hear. Valina's vehicle had been noticed and she felt the other woman clutch reflexively at her as someone stepped closer for a quick glance through the window before moving away again, satisfied that the vehicle was unoccupied – they hadn't been seen.

When a furiously whispered argument broke out just at the edge of hearing, Sarah could stand it no longer and raised her head to take a peek at the group of around half a dozen people – aliens, two or three distinct species – standing around the other vehicle looking fierce and determined…yet also strangely unsure of themselves. She heard the words 'detention centre' and 'allies', 'militia' and 'guards', a flurry of debate about weapons, specifically the lack thereof, and realised with a sudden shock who and what these people were.

"It's more of the rebels – they're trying to get their people out!"

In her surprise she forgot to whisper, or perhaps it was simply that some of those aliens had particularly acute hearing, because the next thing she knew the jig was up, they were surrounded, Valina was hissing at her in furious dismay, and those alien rebels were calling for them to exit their vehicle quietly.

Sarah could have kicked herself – and was quite certain that Valina would happily do it for her!

"What are you doing, spying on us?" shouted one of the rebels the moment they were out of their vehicle, this one squat and grey-skinned, young-looking, almost dancing with agitation.

"What did you hear? Why were you hiding there? What do you know?" demanded another, this one almost a double of that reptilian giraffe Sarah had met up on the re-fuelling station, all four eyes glowering, and then they were all babbling at once and she was angry all of a sudden.

"We were hiding because we didn't know who you were," she snapped, loudly enough to cut across their chatter, aware that Valina was trying to hide behind her, still reluctant to be seen and identified with or by such people. "And it looks as if we were right to take care – what do you think you're doing?"

With the tables thus turned on them, the aliens fell silent, shooting worried glances at one another. "Who are you?" the reptilian giraffe asked. "What do you want?"

"You're protestors, aren't you?" Sarah pushed, and the giraffe creature snorted.

"We are the People's Resistance," he declared, rather more grandly than Sarah felt was entirely called for…but then he caught the eye of some of the others and his head dropped, suddenly sombre. "Well, part of it – what's left of it."

"But we aren't alone. There are other groups out there and more join our cause all the time. We won't let them beat us – and we won't let them hold us!" insisted the grey-skinned one, defiant.

"You've come here to get your friends out of the detention centre," Sarah guessed. "But how? You must know that a direct assault would be suicide, surely."

"I thought you said it was worth it," Valina sourly muttered behind her back and she swung around to face the other woman, shaking her head.

"No, not worth this – there has to be another way."

"Why do you care?" one of the rebels sullenly asked, a female, bright-eyed and petite – the same species as that grey-skinned young firebrand.

"I care because my friend is in there, too, he was arrested with your allies," said Sarah, knowing that an edge of desperation had tinged her voice now and not caring, because there'd been one bloodbath already today because of these rebels and perhaps Valina was right, maybe they were fools and not worth the trouble they caused.

The aliens looked at one another, more suspicious than ever. "Arrested at the store? Why?"

"He got involved in something that didn't concern him." Valina glared at Sarah as she spoke, but Sarah wasn't having that, not any longer.

"Whatever's going on is everyone's concern, surely," she argued. Valina shook her head.

"No. No, it is not my concern – I cannot afford for it to be my concern. All I wish is to keep a roof over my family's heads and food on the table –"

The hot-headed young grey snorted in derision as his female compatriot angrily burst out, "That's all any of us want. Freedom, equality, subsistence – is that so much to ask?"

"You brought your troubles to my store, and how does that help you?" Valina fumed. "How does dying there further your cause?"

It was a low blow and Sarah could see that Valina regretted it at once as the sorry group of would-be rebels reacted – the protestors killed at the store earlier had been their allies, their friends. The little grey female recovered first.

"_Your_ store?" she snorted in disgust. "Essential supplies priced as luxuries for off-worlders – and you work there. Good for you. But can you afford to _buy_ the goods you sell? What do you go without for the supplements that keep you alive? You know what would happen if you spoke out – do you believe that's fair?"

"That's enough," Sarah cut in before the argument could spiral out of control. "Arguing isn't going to help any of us. Look, we all want the same thing here, don't we – to get our friends out of the detention centre safely." Valina was shaking her head, and Sarah knew she regretted ever offering that ride here in the first place, but the others couldn't deny it. "What was your plan?"

"What was _your_ plan?" the squat grey hothead immediately countered, and Sarah had no idea how to reply because she couldn't honestly say that she'd had a plan. She hadn't thought any further ahead than getting here.

"Look, do you have any weapons at all?" she asked, trying to get a better feel for the situation, and wasn't sure how to interpret the looks they cast at one another, read anguish and regret and anger in those alien expressions.

"We should – we'd sent people to get them, new stock from off-world, it was needed. They must be _made_ to take us seriously, they must," one of them said, a being with enormous ears and a snout of a nose, face and hands covered with sleek brown fur that Sarah longed to touch. "We should have been there, at the store – but our supplier let us down." Despair was written all over that furry face.

"They were attacked, driven away and our comrades killed," said another, the same species but a little taller, its fur longer and elaborately braided. "And they were the last who would deal with us. The Shad have seen to that, they've cut off every supply."

"Oh, it doesn't really matter anyway," Sarah quickly said, before they could elaborate any further on these details that she didn't entirely understand and didn't think were relevant. "Even if you did, what I said before is true – a direct assault on the detention centre would be suicide, and that won't help your cause at all."

"Then what do you suggest?" demanded that angry young grey.

"Subterfuge," said Sarah, in the most determined tone she could muster. If they wanted to get their people out, it was the only thing that would work, she was sure of it, and then before anyone could ask her to elaborate – which she was equally sure she couldn't, because she hadn't had time to think this through – a deep, blessedly familiar voice boomed out behind her.

"That's an excellent suggestion, Sarah. What are you talking about?"

Sarah span around, eyes wide and mouth dropping open with disbelief, because there he was: scarf trailing, battered hat pressed down tight over that mess of unruly curls, toothy grin plastered all over his face, with yet another alien being lurking just behind him. It was the Doctor!

dwdwdwdwdw

"You are certain you understand, Earth man?" Ren turned sceptical eyes upon Harry, who told himself not to take the implied mistrust personally. They both knew he'd been out of his element since landing here and she had a lot riding on this mission – potentially the life of her comrade.

Oddly enough, though, with a clearly defined mission to carry out, he was at last starting to feel as if his feet were on solid ground once more – and not just because they were now parked up at ground level, just around the corner from their target. He was to be the decoy, Ren had decided, and, although the role left him feeling uncomfortably exposed, his job was relatively simple – even if it did involve walking right into the lion's den, so to speak.

So he said, "Of course. It's not that difficult," and made an effort to sound confident. "Go to the front door, ring the bell and ask for directions or some such – keep the blighters distracted while you two slip in round the back and disable the whatsit."

"In essence, if not substance," said Ren with an eye-roll that could only be described as sardonic. "Wait two minutes for us to reach the service door at the rear, then go. Once we're inside, Dilly will work to access the security feed, so you must be in place by then. The timing must be exactly right."

"Well, that's why I've got this, isn't it?" He raised his arm to show her the strap around his wrist, having been persuaded to exchange his own trusty old wristwatch, which had survived his fall _almost_ intact, for a rather more high tech device that did much the same job and a lot more besides.

Dilly chittered and plucked at his sleeve with an oversized claw, antennae waggling as the creature's odd little face creased in the equivalent of a smile. "Luck be with you, Earth man."

Ren lifted an eyebrow as she reached for the door control. "Luck be with us all," she grunted, and they were off.

Harry followed them out, sealed the door, and looked around at what he could see of his surroundings in the fading evening light: a shabby and sparsely populated area that was the image of urban decay, complete with peeling paint, crumbling walls and cracked street surfaces growing weeds. Like the warehouse they'd visited earlier, and in stark contrast to the vast sky-rises he'd first seen on this world, the streets and buildings here looked so normal and unassuming that this could almost have been Earth.

Almost.

It felt good to be out of the confines of the shuttle after being cooped up in there for so long.

He waited for the allotted two minutes to give the others time to reach their destination and trip the locks, leaning against the side of the shuttle trying to look nonchalant while checking the display on that high-tech wrist piece every few seconds until the time was right to set his own part of this little scheme in motion. Dilly, he'd been told, once inside the building, would be able to remotely access all the security camera systems in there, using equipment that was illegal on fourteen worlds, apparently; Harry hadn't asked how they'd smuggled it onto this world, he suspected it was one of those things he was better off not knowing. He understood very little of the technical jargon the creature had spouted at him by way of explanation, but hazily grasped the idea that an older image from those camera feeds could be 'looped' so that intruders could sneak in and move around without being seen, because stealth was the order of the day. It sounded jolly useful, he had to admit, and, as the only face unknown to the Shad, Harry's job was to create a diversion so that no one was looking at the security monitors at the moment Dilly tripped the system to set up the loop.

Well, he had rather liked the idea of working for the security services when the transfer to UNIT first came up, he reminded himself, and this was undercover work, of a sort…albeit just about as far removed as could be imagined from anything he'd ever anticipated, back when he first accepted that transfer.

It had to be done. They were here to save a life.

He checked the display on his new wrist-piece for the umpteenth time – the two minutes was up. Time to go.

The front entrance of the building was just around the corner, no more than a few hundred yards away, manned by heavy, thickset individuals with skin like rhino hide and prominent fangs rather like the mythical vampire, oddly webbed hands and beady little eyes that glowed disturbingly red. There were three of them, one sat at a desk alongside a bank of screens, clearly on duty, while the other two appeared to just be hanging around with nothing better to do. They were all heavily armed.

Harry was nervous, so it wasn't hard to play at being lost and frightened, a tourist who'd wandered astray in an unfamiliar place. Really speaking, it wasn't even a lie. The guards were extremely suspicious of this stranger at their door and didn't care in the slightest about his supposed predicament, but they were also suitably distracted from those screens at the crucial moment, so that was a success that he decided he could be pleased about later. He tried to keep them occupied for as long as he could, because he had another part to play, in case anything went wrong – which of course it did, because that was how this entire day had played out. All too soon alarms began to blare and the sound of gunfire rang out from deep within the building, Harry's heart sank like a lead balloon, and there was nothing else for it but to switch to Plan B and then run.

As one of the guards turned to run deeper into the building to investigate and the others turned on Harry, angry and suspicious, he slid a hand into a pocket to activate the _other_ device he'd been given for just this eventuality, quickly pulling it out and throwing it to the ground. It was called a flash bomb, he'd been told, and would both fry all the electrics in the building and temporarily blind anyone within a certain radius of the blast – "so do make sure that your own eyes are closed, Earth man, or you too will be incapacitated," Dilly had fussily instructed, and Harry did just that, even though it went sorely against the grain to close his eyes when armed enemies were advancing toward him at speed.

Even with his eyes firmly closed the flash of light was blindingly brilliant and the percussion of the blast knocked him off his feet, while the shouts of the shocked guards and the spark-hiss of the electrics shorting out rang in his ears, smoke slowly filling the air. He struggled upright again at once, because there was no time to lose, not even a moment to pause and catch his breath; the guards might be blinded but they were still armed.

With spots dancing in front of his eyes, the afterimage of that brilliant burst of light, Harry staggered toward the exit and away – ducking as he heard shots fired behind him, at least one of the incapacitated guards having enough wit still to fire blindly in his general direction. One or two of those shots came uncomfortably close, singeing his hair and sleeve as he ran, out of the building and away. He sprinted the distance back to Ren's shuttle without stopping, hoping against hope that the others had also made it out safely, because he couldn't even begin to imagine what to do if they hadn't.

They weren't there.

Harry hit the button to open the doors and dashed inside for an almost frantic look around, just to be sure of what he already knew.

They weren't here yet. Maybe they never would be, and then what would he do? He'd never get them out of there alone, but he could hardly just leave them, yet he had to consider the Doctor and Sarah as well – he was starting to feel as if he'd never manage to find them.

He waited in the doorway, fidgeting and worrying, expecting armed and angry aliens to come after him at any moment and starting at every sound. This wasn't a heavily populated area, but there were people – creatures – around, and he wondered that they weren't taking more interest, gloomily suspected that perhaps this was the kind of place where everyone knew to mind their own business or else.

At last he heard footsteps, running footsteps, and then there they were, at full pelt and exchanging weapons fire over their shoulders with Shad guards hot on their heels: Dilly scuttling faster than he'd thought the creature capable of and Ren struggling to support a third person who must be Brunnal, stocky and dark and staggering slightly, limping along.

They'd reached the shuttle, shots flying in every direction, when Dilly suddenly gasped and staggered as a shot glanced off that shiny carapace. Ren cried out in alarm, swinging around to catch at her friend even as another shot found its mark. Caught square in the soft underbelly beneath the outer shell, Dilly dropped like a stone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Part Three**

It was chaos, absolute chaos.

With shots still flying all around, Harry leapt forward to help Ren haul Dilly into the shuttle, while Brunnal took Ren's gun from her hand to lay down covering fire. Crouching to examine Dilly's injures, Ren at his side, Harry was only dimly aware that Brunnal had leapt aboard behind them and sealed the door until the newcomer spoke.

"What's the damage? Is it bad?" His voice was gruff and concerned – and then confused as he added, "Wait, what? Who's this? What are you?"

"An ally," said Ren, without looking up.

"A what? Where'd you find it?"

Harry ignored them both, too busy attempting to staunch the blood flow from Dilly's wound with whatever material came to hand and to remember whatever little he'd ever known of crustacean biology – for whatever good that might do, since this wasn't an actual lobster but an alien being he'd never seen the like of before today. He wondered frantically whereabouts the vital organs were kept, tried to locate an artery to check the pulse, and then reminded himself that he had no way of knowing what the standard pulse rate for such a creature actually was to compare it with.

He was a doctor, not a xeno-biologist.

"Where's the healing unit?" Brunnal demanded somewhere behind him, while shots thudded into the wall of the shuttle and Ren straightened in sudden alarm.

"The cockpit – Brunnal, they can get in, the forward windshield is smashed!"

"What? The hells happened?"

"It's been an interesting day! Get the helm, Brunnal, we have to get out of here, now – go!" Ren's hands were trembling as she gently stroked the smooth surface of Dilly's carapace. "Dilianzathal Enzor-Krallus, don't you dare die on me!" she ordered, voice wobbling slightly, and to Harry she added, "You said you were a healer."

"Yes. I did," said Harry, as shots could be heard from the cockpit – it seemed Brunnal had gone through just in time. A moment later the shuttle jerked violently as it took off at speed and Harry had to put a hand out to steady himself, smearing viscous alien blood all over the furniture in the process.

"Can you heal this?" Ren was tense, all her earlier stoicism drained away.

"The healing unit!" bellowed Brunnal from the cockpit as the shuttle bucked and weaved, moving at what felt like a ferocious speed. "Why aren't you using the healing unit, what's wrong with you all?"

"It's gone!" Ren half rose to bellow back. "Expended on the Earth man!" And the glare she turned upon Harry was pure resentment.

He knew better than to take it personally, knew both from medical training and practical experience that friends and family tended to lash out when a loved one was in danger and they needed someone to blame. The patient was what mattered now. "Do you have a first aid kit?" he asked, and Ren looked blank.

"A what?"

"The unit was low, but how can it be empty?" Brunnal shouted again from the cockpit as the shuttle swerved violently once more. "How much did you use?"

"The Earth man would have died!" Ren was all but seething with helplessness and rage. Harry knew that in this moment she would exchange his life for Dilly's in a heartbeat and felt irrationally guilty, as if his own healing had somehow caused all this.

"Then Dilly will now die instead." Brunnal sounded disgusted and angry and frustrated.

"Look, there's really no need for anyone to die," Harry said, and hoped it was true. "Do you honestly not have any kind of practical first aid at all?" He could hardly believe it. "Bandages, medicines – a hospital or health centre of some kind?"

"There are clinics for those without access to other resource, but very few and none near. For the rest – what would be the need when the healing unit will suffice?" Ren glumly replied.

"This would be the need," he said, and pulled in a long breath, told himself to calm down and concentrate, take one step at a time. He knew first aid and he knew medicine and a wound was a wound, no matter what shape the body. "All right then. We're going to have to improvise."

dwdwdwdwdw

"Oh, Doctor!" Sarah all but threw herself at him, she was so relieved. "We were just coming to…how did you get out?"

The Doctor grinned broadly as he broke the hug and stepped back. "Oh, you know me, Sarah. I can be very persuasive," he cheerfully said, and then added, "They intend to follow us, of course, but I'm sure we can do something about that," and as he spoke he turned to the alien with him, who'd been greeted so rapturously by the little band of rebels that he had to be one of them. "Rikard, it's terribly nice of your friends to arrange this little welcoming committee, but they really shouldn't have come."

"You're being followed?" that hot-headed young grey alien demanded in alarm, and the Doctor shrugged.

"Why else would they let us go?"

"But I thought…" began the young man named Rikard, his voice trailing off as the Doctor shook his head. He was the same species as Valina, Sarah noticed, although they didn't seem to know one another: both dark and sallow-skinned with the same heavily ridged forehead and long, curving double-pointed chin and nose that nearly met in the middle, the same strange sideways movement of the jaw when they spoke. He was tall and wiry with intense eyes, his long hair left to flow loose and untamed in stark contrast to Valina's elegantly coiffed style, almost crackling with energy.

"You've been making a nuisance of yourselves for far too long," the Doctor said, his keen eyes sweeping around the gloomy location and coming to rest on an overhead gantry. "We can't stay here – we're under observation, look."

Sarah peered up at the gantry and saw at once what he'd spotted – some kind of security camera, well hidden but visible when you looked for it. The whole vehicle bay was probably full of them, keeping track of everyone who came and went, no matter how quiet and secure the place seemed.

"They know where we are, then," she said with a shudder, remembering the carnage at the store and wondering that those grim, implacable militia men hadn't come after them already, while Valina blanched, moaning her dismay at being caught on camera in the company of dissidents.

"Oh, mother of mercy. I'm finished."

"But the others – we can't leave them there." Rikard sounded frantic.

The Doctor shook his head. "We can't help them now."

"Do you understand what will happen to them – for the crime of speaking out, for daring to ask for sympathy, for help, for equality?"

"I do." The Doctor was grim-face, resolute. "Our charming hosts made their intentions crystal clear, but we can't help your friends without helping ourselves." He glanced around once more, looking worried. "Listen, there isn't much time. We were released under the guise of negotiating a truce but I'm certain the intention is to use us to ferret out the rest of your group – they'll track us back to your headquarters, trace all lines of connection and supply. We'll have to split up – re-group and then plan the next move."

"Yes, all right, you're right," Rikard agreed with a worried frown, pulling himself together to address his friends. "You'll have to shake off any pursuit and go to ground, scatter." He loudly overrode their protests, resting a reassuring hand on the arm of that agitated young grey alien. "No, it can wait, we'll debrief later, when it's safe."

"Are these yours?" asked the Doctor, gesturing at the two vehicles parked in this corner, and Valina surged into indignant motion, charging forward in defence of her little run-around. "No! That one is mine!"

"You don't mind if we borrow it, do you, Valina?" The Doctor's eyes were big and beseeching, but she shook her head stubbornly.

"It is registered to me and I cannot have any part in your action – I should never have come here."

The Doctor hesitated, looking curiously at her. "But you did come here, Valina. Why was that?"

"To help me," Sarah quietly said, feeling guilty because she knew, had known all along, how desperate Valina was to avoid getting into trouble, how concerned she was not to let her family down, and she'd taken advantage of the other woman's sympathy anyway because she'd prioritised her own needs more.

The awful thing was she'd probably do the same thing again. Big picture versus little picture, and it was so much easier to ignore what seemed to be the smaller picture when it wasn't your own.

"I thought we were in a hurry. Do we really have time for this?" that hot-headed young grey alien grumbled, but fell silent when the Doctor looked sternly in his direction.

"Of course we have time, we're not thieves." He turned imploring eyes upon Valina again. "I'm sorry you've been dragged into this, Valina, but you came here because you wanted to help, and you still can – you could help us out a great deal. And perhaps if we succeed, you may find that the price you pay for that support isn't so great after all."

Valina's eyes were full of furious tears. "Go," she choked, and she thrust into the Doctor's hands the activation device for her vehicle, gesturing toward the camera, high on its gantry. "If I am seen then I am ruined already, but perhaps you might escape."

The Doctor smiled gently and squeezed her hand encouragingly as he took the device from her. "Thank you, Valina. Perhaps we all might escape – including you. Report it stolen, they might believe you." He turned back to the others. "Go on, off with you, and watch out for any pursuit – they'll be tracking us," and he gestured at himself and Rikard, "I'm certain of it, but that doesn't mean they won't also follow you."

"So lose them, by any means, and go to ground," Rikard repeated. "Await the recall signal."

"I'm coming with you," Sarah was quick to tell the Doctor, just in case he had any bright ideas about trying to protect her by sending her off with the others. She wasn't sure whether to be surprised or not when Valina also stepped up to join them, looking distraught but resolute.

"I come as well. If it is over for me then it is over for me, lies will not be believed, but this vehicle is mine and you are not taking it without me."

The Doctor smiled broadly. "Quickly, then – let's go!"

dwdwdwdwdw

This was field medicine at its purest and, as his patient stabilised, Harry found to his surprise that he was enjoying the experience, adapting human medical techniques to this alien patient. He'd been trained in this kind of rough and ready field medicine, of course, but had only rarely had occasion to put it into practice, and even all those life-and-death struggles with the Doctor, fighting for good against evil, couldn't compare with the rush that came of saving a life like this, hands on.

He checked vitals again, now that he'd worked out how, and was satisfied that the patient was stable and recovering, sat back on his haunches and allowed himself to relax.

"Well?" Ren hadn't stirred from Dilly's side.

Harry smiled, tired but content. "Well, nurse, I do believe the patient will recover."

Ren smiled back at him, and it was the first genuine smile he'd seen from her since they'd met. "We are in your debt, Earth man."

"Then perhaps now we can start looking for my friends," he was quick to remind her.

She nodded and tilted her head to one side, regarding him curiously. "An Earth man in a citadel few Earth folk would choose to enter. Why are you here, Harry? You never did say."

It was the first time she'd addressed him by name. Harry refrained from pointing out that she never had asked. "Well, there's not a great deal to say. I was travelling –"

"With these friends you wish to seek."

"That's right. We were travelling – well, we were supposed to be going home, in fact, but it seems navigation isn't exactly the Doctor's strong point, so…well, we ended up here instead." It seemed a dreadfully long time ago now.

"And then you fell."

He shuddered at the memory, an involuntary reaction. "And then we fell."

"A big blue box, you said." Ren pushed upright, flexing her spine rather stiffly. "All systems are up and running again now. I will programme a search. Someone will have noticed and reported it."

"Thank you."

Ren turned toward the cockpit just as Brunnal stepped – or rather limped – through, announcing that he'd engaged the autopilot now that any pursuit was well and truly lost. She gave him her severest look. "Can you be sure? The Shad won't let this lie. They'll be out for blood."

"They'll have to find us first," he confidently dismissed, folding powerful arms across his chest. "How's Dilly?"

"Recovering," said Harry. "What about you?"

This was the first opportunity he'd had to take a proper look at the third member of the smuggling crew. Brunnal wasn't tall but was solidly built, dark and muscular and more human in appearance than either of his colleagues although still noticeably alien; he had a forked chin and scale-like ridges running from the tip of his nose up across heavy brows along the forehead and back around his head, which was bald over the ridges but was otherwise covered with what looked more like fur than hair, thick and bushy. He looked tired and was visibly bruised, a dark patch of blood staining one leg, but a shake of the head was his only response to the question as he leaned over to check Dilly's condition for himself, then stepped back, grinning from ear to ear.

"Recovering indeed!" He slapped a heavy hand across Harry's back in celebratory fashion and Harry had to put a hand out to steady himself.

"Bit of a patch job, I'm afraid, but I'm satisfied for now. Are you all right?"

Brunnal clearly had no intention of admitting to any hurt. "Ah, it's no more than scratches."

"It is more than a scratch, you're bleeding." Stubborn patients were at least one area Harry felt he had some expertise, and two could play at that game. "Let me take a look."

Brunnal submitted to the examination with a very bad grace and Harry quickly realised that the man had also been shot, in the leg; a flesh wound only, heavily scabbed over, but nonetheless in sore need of treatment. "This isn't a recent wound," he observed as he began to wash it out.

"At the meet, when we were attacked," Brunnal explained, wincing, and Harry paused, startled at the implication.

"That was hours ago – were you offered no treatment for the injury at all?"

"What do the Shad care?" he dismissed, as if it would never have occurred to him to expect any different. "Mindless thugs."

"Mindless thugs whose influence spreads further across the galaxy with each cycle," said Ren.

"Their operation is large," Brunnal conceded with a shrug. "Their thinking is small."

"Their thinking is large enough that they have both our cargo and our payload," Ren pointedly continued, and Brunnal's face fell as he cursed profoundly at the reminder.

"Then we'll just have to retake them, won't we? We have a contract to fulfil, bills to pay."

"Retake them, you say – as easy as that, you think?" Ren scoffed. She stared worriedly at her comrade for a moment, and then looked at Harry; he wondered if he was about to be asked to join another mission before beginning the long-delayed search for his friends, but at last she huffed a weary sigh before shaking her head. "Perhaps, but it will have to wait. We owe a debt to the Earth man."

She went through to the cockpit and Brunnal pushed upright at once to hobble after her, ignoring Harry's protest that he hadn't finished dressing the wound. "What debt? We have obligations to fulfil…"

The door closed and Harry could hear no more, was left to wonder who would win the argument, whether his search was to be delayed yet again.

He tried not to think about the TARDIS falling or what might have happened to its occupants. It was indestructible, the Doctor had said, and he was hanging onto that statement for all it was worth.

"They both like to think they are in charge, you know," a weak voice spoke up and he turned in surprise to see his patient awake and watching him, reached out automatically to check vitals once more and was pleased to note that they were improving.

"So who actually is in charge, then?" he wondered and Dilly managed a feeble chitter, a gleam of humour entering those bulbous eyes.

"Neither of them!" the odd little creature chirped, and Harry could only laugh.

dwdwdwdwdw

"So how do we tell if we're being followed?" Sarah wondered, trying and failing to get a good look at the view through the front windscreen past the three taller bodies before her. It was quite a squash with four people aboard Valina's little run-around.

"Well, just at the moment," said the Doctor in his most off-hand tone, "We can't."

"Oh, well that's encouraging!"

"They may or may not be following yet, but we have to assume they're tracking us," he said. "Check your pockets, Rikard, there'll be a tracking device of some kind, some way they can trace us back to your headquarters."

Rikard had rather high-handedly taken the controls as soon as they were aboard, while Valina hung back looking tense and nervous, but now he moved aside to begin searching the pockets of his jumpsuit and Valina reluctantly resumed control of her own vehicle.

"Where should I go?" she worriedly asked.

"Stay within this district for now," the Doctor told her, searching rapidly through his own pockets and dumping the contents into Sarah's hands until they overflowed. "Round and round the roses till we all fall down – this is a regulated zone, they won't want any trouble here; we can buy ourselves some breathing space perhaps. Find anything, Rikard?"

The alien man began to shake his head – but then stiffened and held out a tiny device between his thumb and forefinger. "You were right," he said, fear bringing a sharp edge to his voice. "Quick, destroy it."

"Wait." The Doctor snatched the device from the man's hand. "Let's not be hasty."

Rikard was furious. "You want them to find us – destroy us?"

"Destroy the tracker and it'll register, force their hand," said the Doctor, tucking the device away in an inside pocket. "I think we can be cleverer than that – well, I don't know about you, but I can certainly be cleverer than that. No, we can use this to draw them out."

"How?" Rikard waved his hands in exasperation.

"Wait and see," said the Doctor, which Sarah took to mean that, for all his talk, he hadn't the faintest idea, yet, what to do next. "Any sign of pursuit?"

"Hard to tell in this traffic." Rikard leaned over Valina's shoulder to scowl at the small screen mounted on the console. "This scanner is not up to much," he grumbled, and Valina turned on him at once.

"It has always been sufficient for my needs – but of course, I have never been pursued by the militia before," she scathingly declared, and Rikard took exception and began to argue. The Doctor shrugged and left them to it, inclining his head in conspiratorial fashion to beckon Sarah over to the rear of the vehicle with him.

"Did you find anything, Sarah?" he asked in a low voice.

"What?" Clutching at her armful of junk from his pockets, which was threatening to spill all over the floor, Sarah was thrown by the unexpected question and blinked at him in confusion…but a second later her brain caught up and she realised what he was asking, and couldn't believe she'd forgotten, even for a moment. "Oh! Yes, I found the TARDIS, all in one piece." She quickly thrust the bits and pieces back into his hands and reached into her own pocket for the print-out Valina had given her. "It was taken to a waste depot."

The Doctor looked helplessly at the junk in his hands and quickly shoved it back into his pockets so he could take the print-out. He unfolded and studied it intently for about two seconds, then fixed her with unreadable eyes. "Nothing else?"

"There's no sign of Harry, not in the official records – at least not that Valina has access to," Sarah quietly said. "So wherever he is, it doesn't look as if he hit the ground."

The Doctor's face lit up like a child at Christmas. "But that's good news, Sarah! It means there's a chance, a real chance."

"Yes, but what's happened to him? And how are we going to find him – especially if we're stuck in the middle of all this," Sarah asked, worried all over again because if he hadn't reached the ground, then where was he? And 'all this' was so murky. It was politics and economics and shades of grey, a broken system, with no obvious bad guy to pit themselves against, no easy resolution and no quick wins. Technically it was none of their business, even, not that that had ever stopped the Doctor before, and Sarah agreed with that approach for the most part – did here, even, if there was something they could do to help, but still, "We probably shouldn't get involved…"

"Probably not," the Doctor conceded. "But we're already involved," and that was that. He smiled at her. "Chin, up, Sarah – nil desperandum, eh."

He was always so infectious; she couldn't help but return the smile. "Nil desperandum."

"That's the spirit. There may not be a great deal we can do about the situation here in general – there are some battles that people simply have to fight for themselves – but we can help Rikard and his friends out of their immediate predicament, and that's not for nothing, you know. Every little counts."

She hadn't thought of it quite like that. "Well, when you put it that way…"

"We should have stayed with the others," Rikard called across from the front of the vehicle, where he was fiddling with the scanner; trying to improve its range, perhaps. "We could have fought back, taken the centre by storm – they have weapons."

Remembering her brief conversation with the other rebels back in the vehicle bay, Sarah was quick to say, "Oh, but they don't," but neither one of the men seemed to hear her.

"Weapons, pah," the Doctor was saying. "You had weapons at the store."

"A single gun, good for effect only."

"And what good did it bring you? You still think weapons are the answer? After everything that's happened, all those lives lost at your protest today alone?"

"But we must do something. With more weapons, real weapons, we can _make_ them take us seriously, we must make a stand," Rikard insisted. "All we want is the means to survive – equality, subsistence – but they make criminals of us, and for what? For drawing attention to injustice. So what choice do we have but to fight?"

Sarah raised her voice. "There are no weapons," she repeated, exasperated at being ignored, and both men turned to look at her.

"But there must be weapons," Rikard protested. "Tobin and the others – they went to meet with our supplier, they were to join us at the store. They didn't get there in time. If they had –"

"If they had, they'd have died along with all those others," said the Doctor. "Perhaps taken a great many innocent lives with them – is that really what you want?"

"The militia try to silence us and we won't allow it," Rikard sullenly insisted. "Our protests were always peaceful – we seek change, not war. It was they who attacked and forced us to take action. We must be allowed to fight back." He swung around to glare at Sarah. "How can there be no weapons? They went to meet the supplier. The deal was all arranged, watertight."

"Something went wrong," Sarah said. "I don't know very much, only what your friends told me." And she hadn't really listened, she remembered with chagrin, hadn't thought it was relevant. She wracked her memory trying to recall the details. "They said that your supplier was attacked and driven away, and some of your comrades were killed – I'm sorry," she added, seeing pain in the alien's face. He'd lost a lot of friends today; no wonder his anger and resentment were burning so hot.

"But the cargo," he managed to blurt out. "Not just the weapons, the rest of it, it was needed…"

"I don't know any more, I'm sorry."

"Who attacked them?" the Doctor curiously asked. "It couldn't have been the militia – if they already knew the dissidents' supply chain they wouldn't need us."

"They did say the name," Sarah remembered now. "I think it might have been…" she dredged the name out of her memory, "Something like…Chad?"

"The Shad!" exclaimed Rikard, and he cursed at length.

"Shad?" Valina half-turned at the console, her air of subdued resentment giving way to curiosity. "I've heard that name."

"I haven't," said the Doctor with interest. "But I should like to know more. Tell me about the Shad, Rikard."

dwdwdwdwdw

Harry wasn't entirely sure what he was eating, but he was hungry enough not to care. It looked strange and tasted rather odd, but he'd eaten far worse in his time, and school followed by the Navy had given him a cast-iron stomach, so he sat at the small table in the rear compartment of the shuttle, alongside Dilly's sleeping form on the couch, and dug in while Ren updated him on the results of her search of the citadel's information channels, or whatever it was she'd done to locate the TARDIS. It was at a waste depot, apparently, awaiting whatever happened on this world to rubbish found littering the streets.

_It's indestructible_, he told himself again, and then asked if anyone had been found in it or near to it or had been in to claim it.

They hadn't, as far as Ren could tell, but there were news reports of a man matching the Doctor's description being arrested after an outbreak of violence at some kind of political protest, and if he was involving himself in political protests and getting himself arrested, then he couldn't have come to any harm from that fall. It was as if a tonne weight had been lifted from Harry's shoulders.

"Yes, that sounds like him," he said. "If there's trouble to be found, the Doctor usually manages to find it."

It was strange that there was no mention of Sarah with him, though.

Ren glanced up as Brunnal stepped through to the rear compartment from the cockpit, still limping noticeably on his injured leg. "There were deaths at that protest," she pointedly said.

"None of our business – they know the risks, they choose to take them," Brunnal dismissed, and perhaps in other circumstances Harry might have asked him to explain, but just now he could only think about what this might mean for him.

"The Doctor wouldn't have let anything happen to Sarah," he worriedly said, and Ren lifted an eyebrow.

"He allowed you to fall."

"That was an accident," Harry staunchly defended, and then asked, "Er, so where do you suppose he'd have been taken?"

"To detention, in the first instance." Brunnal's drawling voice was dismissive as the alien man reversed and straddled a chair at the table, folding his powerful arms across its back. "Then trial – this regime imposes harsh penalties for sedition, which is why we'll not be sticking around any longer than strictly necessary."

"Well, then we'll have to get him out." There were no two ways about it for Harry, but both aliens looked at him as if he'd gone mad.

"Now that is not possible," Brunnal said with a shrug, reaching over to take a handful of food from a dish on the table and tipping his head back to pour the dry flakes into his mouth like the crumbs from the bottom of a crisp packet.

"Why not? We got you back from the Shad, didn't we?"

"Completely different," said Ren, looking troubled. "And the Shad were bad enough, but they're scavengers, pirates, flying under the radar. They'll not want to attract official attention any more than we do. But a militia detention centre in the heart of the citadel?" She shook her head. "No. No, that's out of our league entirely."

"Well, we have to do something. Or…I do, at any rate," Harry insisted, disappointed by her hesitance but not about to be swayed by it. He'd go it alone if he had to, somehow, and perhaps it hadn't been wise to expect support from criminals in the first place, however friendly they'd seemed and no matter what had been agreed, or was supposedly owed or not owed. "I'm not leaving him there."

"Is that so?" Brunnal looked down his nose at him. "Well, you might choose to throw your life away on a fool's errand, but we have our own business to be getting on with."

"Yes, but…" Ren at least seemed conflicted as she looked from Brunnal to Harry and back again, frowning. Then she brightened and said, "Here's a thought."

"What?"

"There were several arrests made at that protest," she said.

"Yes." Brunnal looked annoyed. "And they'll blame us. We were meant to have supplied them and failed to uphold the deal."

Ren rolled her eyes. "That was hardly our fault, and that isn't my point. Arrests were made. Will the dissidents sit back and leave their comrades to the mercy of this regime?"

Harry saw where this was going and felt a surge of sudden optimism. "You think they'll try to break the prisoners out?"

"Not without our supplies," Brunnal grumbled, scowling. "Supplies we no longer have to offer."

"Yes, what _were_ the supplies you were selling?" Harry began…but then belatedly realised, from context, what this was all about. "Was it weapons?" He was more shocked than perhaps he should have been. "You were gun-running?"

"Only part of the cargo," Dilly's scratchy voice broke in, and Harry turned to see that the creature was awake again, those bulbous eyes blinking owlishly, almost beseechingly in his direction. "We ship food supplies, mineral supplements – whatever is needed. We profit, they benefit, you see?" Dilly's voice was earnest and sincere. "But this is a wretched world, failing – the rich have it all and the poor are trodden down, so they begin to fight back and can you blame them?"

"So now you're supplying weapons for that fight," Harry slowly said. Insurrection and the illegal arms trade – it was a dreadful can of worms to have stumbled into. He told himself not to get drawn into a debate about the rights and wrongs of it all. _Priorities, Sullivan_.

"We supply any need that cannot be filled through official channels," snapped Ren. "It's business."

Brunnal's scowl was deepening by the minute. "Yes, and we came to this world to carry out that business. Perhaps the rebels can help your Earth man free his friend, perhaps they can't, but they'll have no chance without our supplies. So the deal must come first, whichever way you slice it. We have to go back – strike now, while the Shad are weak."

"Strike now, with that leg slowing you down and Dilly out of action?" Ren scoffed. She was frowning, thinking hard, and at length shook her head. "Well, we'll have to make contact first, whatever our next move – make sure there's still a deal to salvage. Get to the sat-com, Brunnal. See if you can raise your contact."

dwdwdwdwdw

"So you're saying that outside these regulated zones, where everything has to be just so, there are slums that no one cares about?" Sarah still had her doubts about the methodology of Rikard and his fellow dissidents, based on the bloody results she'd seen of their rebellion so far, but the more she learned about this world and its imbalanced economy and social structure, the more her blood boiled with support for their cause.

"Those of us who live there care very much," said Rikard.

"But nowhere in this manifesto of woe have you said what you expect to have done about it," Valina argued. "There is so little work available."

"Yet no shortage of wealth among the chosen few, who control all trade – to their own advantage," Rikard passionately proclaimed. "They import vital supplies needed simply to _survive_ on this rock and then cripple us with high prices and taxation, all the while denying us the means to earn our living! There are peoples who would _die_ without mineral supplements that must be imported, they are not natural to this world, yet those supplies are held to ransom. We cannot afford to live and cannot afford to leave, so we _must_ have justice, a fair system of taxation, equal opportunities for all…"

He was off again, his zeal for his cause unwavering and absolute. Sarah glanced at the Doctor to see if he felt inclined to weigh into the debate, but his attention appeared to be fully absorbed by the tracking device, which he'd fished out of his pocket and was studying intently, with a jeweller's eyeglass pinched into an eye socket and his sonic screwdriver in hand. The ball was in her court on this one, clearly.

"So there's a thriving black market despite government attempts to clamp down and control all trade," she said, raising her voice to summarise what she'd learned so far before Rikard could really get into his stride again. "And they've also been clamping down on dissident groups like yours, which have been agitating for change, and that's why you've started asking your off-world contacts to smuggle weapons in for you as well as the other supplies. Only now this group called the Shad have started to muscle in on the act, like…like some kind of intergalactic Mafia."

She watched as the reference went right over his head, of course it did, while the Doctor didn't even seem to be listening. Harry would have got it, if only he were here. But Rikard nodded gloomy understanding of her meaning, nonetheless. "It has happened before – suppliers attacked, their cargo stolen, and whatever becomes of the goods then, they are not offered to those that need them."

"Sold on to the larger corporations, perhaps," Sarah guessed. "You know, I once worked on a story that was a lot like this – a business corruption case. My editor stole the by-line." She'd been very young and very green and it still rankled. "It boosts their profit margins, you see: no import duty, but they can retail for the same inflated rate without anyone knowing."

"What? Is that true?" Valina swung around, wide-eyed at the notion of such corruption, perhaps even on the part of the store where she worked.

"All I know is, these were the last who would trade with us and if they give up, if this shipment is gone…I don't know what we'll do, we need those supplies, people will die – but we have no recourse," Rikard moaned, and the Doctor finally looked up from his preoccupation with the tracking device to bestow a magnanimous grin upon the man.

"What, complain to the militia that your illegal smuggling ring –"

"Necessary!

"…Has come under attack from illegal pirates? No, I don't suppose that would go down terribly well."

"All this talk," said Valina through gritted teeth, the set of her shoulders taut and tense. "Is there a plan to come from all this? Or have I sacrificed my good name for the privilege of flying in circles until my fuel runs out and the militia set upon us?"

"Quite right, Valina, we can't stay here forever," the Doctor briskly agreed, head bent over his work again. Sarah peered over his shoulder trying to see what he was doing.

"I thought you said we couldn't disable that without setting off alarm bells," she said, and he shrugged expansively.

"Who said anything about disabling it? This is a very sophisticated piece of equipment, Sarah." He glanced up at her with a brilliant smile. "Perhaps a little too sophisticated for its own good. Take a look at that scanner."

She did as he said, for all the good it did her, since she hadn't a clue how to read the display, but Rikard seemed to know what he was talking about.

"You've seen it too, then – following our flight pattern exact. It can't be a coincidence. I told you we should have destroyed that thing." He glared at the tiny device in the Doctor's hand.

"Because it's brought the militia onto our tail?" said the Doctor with another dazzling smile. "It may also be our salvation, you know – if I can finish these modifications. What we need is a false trail, so if I can adjust this to bounce the signal…"

Head bent, he was absorbed in his work once more. Rikard made a strangled growling sound that was pure frustration and turned back to the control console. "I need to make contact with the others, find out if they made it out safely."

"The communications channels may be monitored," the Doctor warned but Rikard shook his head.

"We have a secure system that can be accessed remotely, it's safe – if I can tap into it with this antiquated equipment," he said, fiddling furiously with the controls and cursing at them for their inadequacy, to Valina's obvious annoyance. Then he let out an exclamation of surprise. "There's a message – someone trying to make contact!"

"It could be a trap," Sarah cautioned, heedful of the Doctor's warnings, but Rikard shook his head again.

"This is the code used by our supplier," he said, and the Doctor was very interested all of a sudden.

"The supplier who was attacked by the piratical Shad, I take it?" He made a thoughtful moue. "Could be handy. Can you make contact – securely?"

He could and did and in no time at all was deep in conversation with his black market supplier: a dark, burly alien man with a forked chin, ridged nose and rather a haughty manner. His name was Brunnal, and he wasted no time beating around the bush. His group had been attacked by the Shad and their cargo stolen, he admitted, but he was confident his people could retrieve the goods – but only if they were given assurances that the deal was still good, to make the effort worth their while.

"The supplies are needed, the deal must go ahead," Rikard agitatedly insisted.

The Doctor peered over his shoulder. "You know where to find the Shad, then, their headquarters," he said to Brunnal, a statement rather than a question, and on the tiny screen Sarah saw the corners of the alien man's mouth quirk with something that looked like satisfaction.

"In some disarray currently," he said, and the Doctor beamed.

"All the better," he happily declared.

"Why?" Sarah curiously asked, narrowing her eyes because he was up to something, but he simply waggled his eyebrows and tapped his nose as he grinned, always at his most aggravating when he was plotting something.

On the tiny communicator screen, Brunnal half-turned as a door behind him opened a crack, and he spoke briefly to someone just out of sight before turning back to the screen to request the use of a healing unit as part of the deal. "We've a wounded crewmember who would recover all the faster for a dose."

"If you can get us the goods," said Rikard, "Then I'm sure something can be arranged."

Valina glared indignantly at him. "And you're offering _my_ unit, I suppose, since it's my vehicle you're using for your illegal trade, never mind the expense –"

"I think lives are a little more important than expense," Rikard snapped.

"Quite right," said the Doctor. "Now, this is what I propose…"

dwdwdwdwdw

"Well?" Ren pointedly asked as Brunnal stepped through to the rear compartment of the shuttle after making contact with his buyer.

"They argued among themselves over the cost of healing and the value of a life," he said with a sniff, and she rolled her eyes.

"Very philosophical."

"But what did they say?" Harry pressed, anxious for an answer. "Will they make a try for that detention centre you mentioned – help us get the Doctor out?"

Brunnal looked down his nose. "Help _you_, you mean. It didn't come up."

"No, and I don't suppose you bothered to ask, either," Harry grumbled, exasperated. Nothing ever seemed to be straightforward, and he felt a pang of regret at the thought of the nice orderly sick bay he'd presided over back at UNIT – an increasingly distant memory, these days.

"We had business to discuss," Brunnal said with a shrug.

"Then what of that business?" Ren impatiently asked.

"We've agreed to meet," he told her, and to Harry he added, "You can discuss your desire to commit suicide there."

dwdwdwdwdw

"What are you up to?" Sarah asked the Doctor the moment the communication channel was closed, suspicious – but in a good way, because he so obviously had something up his sleeve and his confidence was infectious, almost stupidly so. How did he do it? She'd never figured it out. It was just _him_. Here they were, flying around in circles high above ground with Harry still missing and the militia on their tail, and in spite of it all she was smiling, because _the Doctor was planning something_, and everything would be okay. This was the effect he had, every time.

Even when she knew he was making it up as he went along.

He waved a hand airily and made a big show of modesty that was completely undercut by how very pleased he was with himself. "Well, I might have an idea or two, Sarah, I will admit."

"But the tracking," Rikard worriedly reminded him.

The Doctor was unconcerned. "The tracking device won't be a problem, Rikard, but the pursuit might – are they close enough for visual contact?"

"If you mean can they see us, I hardly see how they could fail at this range," Valina sardonically stated, and the Doctor turned those bright, brilliant eyes of his upon her.

"Well, we'll just have to lose them then, won't we? Traffic this heavy, shouldn't be hard." His energy was unfailing, invigorating everyone around him – even Valina wasn't entirely immune, it seemed. "The militia we met earlier didn't strike me as especially bright, you know, so perhaps if we…ah." His face lit up. "Just look where we are, Sarah."

Sarah looked, but for a moment couldn't imagine what he expected her to recognise; all the high rises in the citadel seemed to look exactly the same. Then she spotted it. She hadn't seen it from this angle or distance before, but the shape and design of the structure she remembered only too well having so painstakingly climbed up the outside of it only a few hours earlier.

"The re-fuelling station!" she exclaimed. They were right back where they'd started, air cars of all shapes and sizes flying in and out of the openings at every level, and all at once she had a good idea of what the Doctor had in mind for losing their pursuit.

The Doctor leaned over Valina's shoulder, pointing. "Head for one of the busier levels, Valina, nice and steady, let's not tip them off. Oh yes, that's right, plenty of traffic to get lost in. Around that corner now, duck and weave, shake them off – you're a natural, Valina!"

Valina looked unsure whether to take that as a compliment or not, frowning as she concentrated hard on her flying.

"So now I reset the tracking device like _so_, while we're out of their line of vision," the Doctor continued, doing something complicated to the tiny device with the sonic screwdriver and a pin he'd produced from those bottomless pockets of his. "Then if you'll just head for that exit over _there_ – we're away."

"But the tracker…" Rikard urgently repeated.

The Doctor bestowed his toothiest grin upon the man. "I've set it to project a false signal, Rikard," he cheerfully explained. "To them it'll look just as if their instruments are on the blink, they won't be able to pinpoint us – they'll unpick it eventually, of course, but it'll buy us some time."

"Time for what?" asked Sarah, and the Doctor's grin widened.

"Well, now that's the really clever part," he declared with not the slightest attempt at modesty this time, and told Valina to head for the coordinates Brunnal had given them. "You trust your contact, don't you, Rikard? If they play their part, and I think they will, it's in their interest too, we might just manage to throw both the militia _and_ the Shad off your scent."

"Two birds with one stone," Sarah said with a smile and his eyes met hers as he smiled back.

"Exactly! How's our course coming, Valina?"

"These coordinates take us out of the business sector," Valina replied, frowning. "This location is on the outskirts of the citadel; I've never been there – a very insalubrious district."

"Well, where else would pirates hole up?"

"This is really where you want to go?"

"Absolutely," said the Doctor.

dwdwdwdwdw

"Wait, you arranged to meet _where_?" Ren demanded. Brunnal held her glare stubbornly.

"The rebels are anxious to close the deal, so they are meeting us there."

"At the Shad headquarters –"

"Not at it, near it…"

"Where you wanted to go in the first place – I should have known you'd swing it that way." The way she rolled her eyes suggested that Brunnal managed to arrange things his own way rather frequently.

Harry sighed, heart sinking. "So the mission to retrieve the cargo comes first after all."

"They are meeting us there. I thought you'd be pleased," Brunnal grumbled. "We close our deal and you get to go off with the rebels for your suicide run on that detention centre, since you're so determined. We all win."

"I'm not sure 'win' is quite the term I'd use," said Ren, "But I suppose the arrangement will do."

Harry had no choice but to agree.

dwdwdwdwdw

As the elegant skyrises of the business sector gave way to much smaller, sparser buildings in the district beyond, Rikard became very quiet, hanging back at the rear of Valina's vehicle with his shoulders hunched and head bowed, a curtain of wild dark hair falling forward to frame his pinched, worried face.

Valina was at the helm still and the Doctor also seemed preoccupied, standing behind her with a hand on the back of her chair, gazing out at the view, so that left morale on Sarah's shoulders, it seemed.

She moved back to join Rikard, made her voice as warm and gentle as she could. "Are you all right?"

"All this was once industry intended to support the colony," he said without looking up. "But the inner citadels outstripped it, looked elsewhere for their wealth and abandoned the workers they'd imported, with no means of support and no means of escape." He turned haunted eyes upon her and his voice was shaky. "It has to be worthwhile. All of this – so many lives given to the cause – it must have meaning."

"I'm sorry," Sarah offered, knowing it wasn't enough. "Those that died today, they were your friends."

"Their sacrifice _will_ have meaning." He looked desperate. "It must – when we get the weapons…" and her face must have betrayed her doubts, as he fiercely added, "You think we are wrong to fight?"

"No," she was quick to assure him. "No – well, not exactly. Sometimes there's no choice but to fight, if you want to bring about real, lasting change. I understand that, and I don't really know enough about this world to judge, but…"

"But what?" His dark eyes bored into her, quick and keen, apparently eager to hear her opinion.

No point beating around the bush. "Well, I'm not sure that hijacking a shop full of customers is going to get you very far, however much you resent what it represents."

"It was a protest, not a hijack," Rikard began to argue, but Sarah was having none of it.

"Oh, come on – if these other weapons had arrived in time, what else could it be? What did you think was going to happen?"

"We must make our voices heard." He sounded desperate.

"I agree," Sarah told him, but she knew well from Earth's bloody history just how badly revolts like this often ended. "I'm just not sure that kind of brute force is the answer, not when innocent people end up getting hurt, because something like this militia will always have _more_ brute force to meet it with – they've got the weight of the government and the wealth of the corporations behind them. You won't be able to match them, however well you arm yourselves. Not when there are so few of you."

"Then what would you do, in my shoes?"

It was a good question, and she had no good answer to give it.

"I'm hardly an expert," she had to admit. "And I don't know much at all about your world, but…well, I'm a journalist, so I suppose I'd use that – I'd use every possible tool. I'd try to get the media onside, try to sway public opinion –"

"You think we have not tried?"

"I'm sure you have," she conceded. "But you must keep trying – and you need the right kind of coverage, you know. Being seen as terrorists does you no favours at all. So work on people like Valina, perhaps, those caught in the middle: get them on your side. They're on the receiving end too, in their own way, trapped in an unjust system. The more public sympathy you can win to your side, the stronger your position."

Rikard nodded. "It's true, but –"

"I hate to interrupt your little _tête__-à-__tête_," the Doctor called from up front. "But I believe this is it."

Abandoning the debate, Sarah stepped across to join him at the controls, gazing out of the viewscreen at wide, unkempt streets of run-down, dilapidated buildings – this was as close to ground level as they'd been yet and it wasn't inviting, to say the least. Rikard had talked about the poverty and deprivation that lay beyond the elegant, immaculate inner citadel, but actually seeing something of it really drove the point home. "Insalubrious is the word," she murmured.

"That rooftop there," the Doctor told Valina, pointing toward what looked like an abandoned industrial building of some sort, and Sarah leaned forward to get a better look.

"Looks as if your supplier is already here," she called to Rikard, who pushed to the front to see for himself.

"They've been in the wars," the Doctor observed, peering down his nose at the vehicle as Valina made her approach, and he wasn't wrong – the waiting vehicle, quite a bit larger than Valina's little run-around, had scorch marks along one side, the scars of gunfire by the looks of it, and the front windshield was broken.

"At war with the Shad, we knew there had been skirmishes. You're sure we are not being followed?" Rikard nervously asked.

"Oh ye of little faith," the Doctor cheerfully assured him. "Of course I'm sure."

"All right, here we go." Valina sounded more nervous than Rikard as she brought the vehicle down. "We're doing this. We're really doing this. Oh, I'm so stupid."

Sarah squeezed her arm. "No you aren't."

"I am. I felt sorry for you, and look where it's brought me." There was no rancour in her tone now – she seemed more philosophical than anything, having come this far – but still Sarah felt the reproof and knew she was guilty, let her hand drop and turned away to look out at the other vehicle again, now that they'd landed.

"That's Brunnal, isn't it?" As the alien man stepped out of the vehicle, she recognised him from their video communication earlier.

"I'll talk to him, complete the deal," said Rikard, heading for the door, and the Doctor followed.

"Yes, I'd like a word with friend Brunnal too – there's rather a lot still to do, you know, for this plan to work."

While Valina hesitated, Sarah followed the men automatically, not about to be left out of the action – the militia were still searching for them, after all, and the Doctor never had explained the full detail of this cunning plan of his. She caught up just as Rikard was saying, "Brunnal. We've not met in person, but we've done business many times. I am Rikard."

"Yes, and I'm the Doctor," said the Doctor with his most fetching smile, striding forward to shake Brunnal by the hand. "Delighted to meet you, we've a lot to talk about and not much time, so –"

"Doctor? Is that…? I don't believe it!"

The shout came from Brunnal's vehicle and the voice was familiar, almost painfully so. It couldn't be, it simply couldn't be, but there was a frantic scramble at the door of the vehicle and a wild-eyed figure came stumbling out, staring in disbelief, and Sarah was running almost before she knew it.

"Harry!" She hurled herself at him and felt his arms close around her, warm and solid and breathing. "But how? I thought you were dead!" She pulled away to smack his arm, suddenly cross because she'd been so very afraid, had imagined such awful things, and here he was all in one piece as if nothing had happened.

"So did I for a moment there, old girl," he rather soberly admitted, and then the Doctor was on him, grabbing his hand and shaking it vigorously before pulling him in to one of those startlingly abrupt split-second hugs of his, grinning like a loon.

"You had us worried, Harry."

"Well, I could say the same about you," Harry retorted.

The Doctor stepped back, still beaming. "I'm delighted to see you again, Harry – and splendidly intact I see. I am pleased."

"So this is the careless pilot who dropped a crewman into heavy traffic from a great height," a new voice interrupted, and Sarah looked past Harry to see that another alien being had stepped out of the shuttle behind him, a woman, tall and stately with mottled indigo skin and a fringe of tentacles running around the back of her otherwise bald head, eyeing them curiously with multi-faceted eyes that were bright with intelligence while her lip curled, baring cat-like, needle-sharp teeth.

The Doctor made no attempt to defend himself against the charge. "Yes," he quietly agreed. "I am the careless pilot."

The woman lifted an eyebrow. "Lucky for you it was my shuttle he fell into. The residents of this world are not always, perhaps, so generous."

The Doctor looked at her and looked again at her shuttle, then looked Harry up and down rather sharply – he'd got changed, Sarah noticed for the first time, the smart suit he'd been wearing when he fell replaced by some kind of flight suit, a snug fit, the synthetic material tight across his chest, and she was still wondering about that as the Doctor nodded toward the shuttle saying, "Did you do that, Harry?"

Harry looked at the broken windshield and said, "Er," and then said, "I rather think I did, yes," and the Doctor's searching gaze drilled into him again.

"But you're all right now?" he demanded, and Sarah looked from Harry to the damaged shuttle and suddenly understood what they were talking about, shuddered reflexively as those nightmare images of what became of a human body that fell from a great height leapt back into her mind again.

There was patently nothing wrong with Harry now though, which he confirmed with a nod and cheerfully said, "In the pink, Doctor. Ren patched me up, good as new."

The Doctor strode forward and shook the woman's hand vigorously. "Then I'm extremely grateful to you. Sarah and I are very fond of Harry, we should hate to have lost him – isn't that right, Sarah?"

"That's right." Sarah tucked an arm through Harry's and squeezed it, and he went a bit pink but pulled his arm away to wrap around her shoulders in a quick, clumsy sideways hug.

"Well, I'm glad you're all right, too," he said, while the woman, Ren, shrugged at the Doctor.

"The debt is already paid," she dismissed.

"Oh, but, er, the healing unit," said Harry, looking toward a rather bemused Rikard. "Do you have one we could borrow?"

They did, although Valina had grumbled mightily about the loan of it, worried about the expense when she had a family to feed. Sarah held it out, explaining, "It belongs to Valina, who gave us a lift here, but she can only spare a single dose."

"Single dose, is it?" Harry looked worried and turned to Brunnal, who nodded.

"It is enough for Dilly. That is what matters."

"Splendid. Well in that case, I think we've a few minutes to spare," the Doctor said. "So let's leave these good people to thrash out their business, Sarah, while Harry sees to his patient."

"Ren's healing unit was used up on me, I'm afraid," Harry told them as they followed him inside, and Sarah wondered how far he'd fallen before he hit the shuttle, how hard the impact had been to cause the damage she'd seen – and what kind of miracle cure this healing unit really was. "And then Dilly here got shot while we were rescuing Brunnal from the Shad, so I've done what I can, but I'm sure a quick dose of this will do wonders," he added in typically nonchalant fashion, only Harry could sound so vague and casual about such things, and the Doctor laughed.

"You've been busy, Harry."

Harry turned the device over in his hands, studying it rather worriedly. He glanced sideways at the bulbous bulk of some kind of strange creature lying dozing on a low couch, and wrinkled his nose. "Er…I don't actually know how to use this."

"I do, silly," a weak, rather scratchy voice spoke up, and Sarah was startled to see the patient stir, reaching out with a gigantic crab-like claw to take the device from Harry's hand and then gently poke at him with it. "You found your friends."

Harry looked up and caught Sarah's eye, smiling. "I suppose we found each other," he said. "And just when we were least expecting it."

"I'm pleased." Although weak, the injured alien did sound delighted for him.

As Harry bent to take instruction on the use of the healing unit, always ready to learn a new medical technique – even using alien equipment he was never likely to encounter again – the Doctor watched him for a moment with a fond expression and then said, "Why don't you tell us about your new friends, Harry."

"Oh. Well, er, they're smugglers," Harry offered.

"Yes, we knew that," Sarah told him.

He smiled down at his patient, one of the oddest-looking creatures Sarah had ever seen. "Well, all I can tell you is that they've been very good to me," he said. "They just want to get this deal over and done with now so they can get themselves off-world again. Have something to eat, Sarah," he added as if he'd only just thought of it, waving a hand toward some food on a small table nearby, which almost certainly wasn't his to offer but Sarah's stomach rumbled loudly at the mere sight of it.

"What's it like, any good?"

The first bite of something that looked vaguely fruit-like was already in her mouth when Harry replied, "No – but it'll fill a gap if you're peckish," and then grinned at the look on her face when the taste hit. She kicked his ankle – gently, because the relief hadn't worn off yet, but hard enough to make the point – and forced the foul-tasting mouthful down, wondering if she was hungry enough to stomach any more. Then something else occurred to her.

"Hang on: if they're leaving the planet, what were you going to do?"

Harry didn't answer for a moment, too busy with his patient, peeling off a stained wound-dressing to examine the seemingly unmarked skin beneath, the miracle cure clearly taking effect already. "I say, that's remarkable," he murmured to himself before turning back to Sarah. "Well you see, Ren looked up a sort of news channel and found a report about the Doctor being arrested after some kind of political demonstration – at least, I thought it was you," he said to the Doctor, who had a little smile on his face and seemed to be thoroughly enjoying just listening to him rambling toward his point.

"It was," said Sarah, setting her half-eaten fruit aside.

"In league with the local rebels, eh," Harry grinned. "Yes, I thought that was it. So I thought perhaps if I could join up with those rebels," and he waved a hand toward the door and the negotiations taking place outside, "Well, we could see what was to be done about it all."

The Doctor beamed beatifically. "A logical plan," he approved. "We're one step ahead of you, of course."

"Of course," Harry dryly replied, no longer as bemused by the Doctor's high-handed ways as he'd once been – friendship with the Doctor was one long learning curve, as Sarah well knew.

"Yes, but the militia are only one step _behind_ us," she quickly pointed out, because it didn't do to let the Doctor's head swell too much and he seemed to have forgotten that not-so-minor detail.

"Quite right, Sarah." He was all business again.

"Militia?" Harry and his alien patient, Dilly, spoke up almost with one voice, the one sounding puzzled and the other alarmed, and Dilly pushed up off the couch, allowing Sarah a good look at the creature for the first time: grey-brown in colour and shaped like a giant lobster, with a myriad of legs and arms and antennae, bulbous eyes on waving eye stalks and gigantic claws which it clicked frantically while making a curious chittering sound of unease. "Are militia coming? Why are the militia coming?"

"They're after us," Sarah admitted, hastily adding, "But it's okay because they can't find us – not yet anyway. And the Doctor has a plan."

Both Dilly and Harry stared at her for a moment and then stared at the Doctor.

"A plan," Dilly snapped at Harry, arms and antennae waving agitatedly. "Your friends bring the militia upon us and they have a plan. Will it work?"

This last was directed at the Doctor, who in return offered a languid smile and rather reproachfully replied, "Of course it will work, and to everyone's benefit – including our friends out there."

To that point, the negotiations outside had become rather noisy, and it sounded to Sarah rather more like disagreement than accord. "Our friends out there don't seem to be getting on very well," she observed.

"No, they don't, do they?" the Doctor agreed, wrinkling his nose. "I suppose we'd better find out what's wrong."

With that, he marched out of the shuttle to ask if there was a problem, prompting everyone out there to begin angrily talking all at once. Even Valina was moved to poke her head out of her vehicle to see what was happening. The Doctor listened for a moment, then pulled a paper bag out of his pocket, emptied its contents into his hand – jelly babies, of course, which he dropped back into his pocket loose – and blew into the bag to blow it up like a balloon. Then he smacked it against the palm of his hand. Bang.

It was only a little 'pop', really, but it worked. Everyone stopped talking and the Doctor smiled. "That's better. Now tell me again: what seems to be the problem?"

"Militia," snarled Brunnal. "You lure us here under the pretence of a deal, knowing all the while that the militia are in pursuit."

"Oh, Rikard mentioned that, did he?" The Doctor gave the rebel rather a reproachful look, as if chastising him for failing to break the news diplomatically enough to forestall this reaction. "Is that a problem?"

"Is that a problem?" Brunnal started forward in fury and had to be restrained by Ren, not that she was any less furious.

"Yes, it's a problem. Of course it's a problem. Can you explain this, Earth man?" she spat at Harry, who opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish, because of course he couldn't.

"It isn't a trick," Sarah called out, anxious to defuse the situation. "I mean, it is, but we aren't tricking you. The Doctor has a plan…"

It sounded weak even as she said it; Dilly certainly hadn't seemed convinced and these two were much fierier customers.

"A plan, is it? One that will see us all brought to what passes for justice on this world?" Brunnal produced a gun and levelled it at the Doctor. "Start talking."

dwdwdwdwdw


	4. Chapter 4

**Part Four**

The Doctor smiled gently. "You know, there really is no need for all this fuss," he said. "The militia are looking for us, it's true, but they won't find us – not until we want them to."

"And why would we want that?" Ren demanded.

The Doctor regarded her evenly for a moment and then glanced around at the motley assortment of aliens. "Oh, I think we all want much the same thing here," he said. "To be able to go about our business without hindrance: you have goods you wish to sell; Rikard here wishes to buy those goods from you, supplies that will save lives. He also wishes to free his comrades from prison, so that they can continue setting the world to rights – a noble aim, wouldn't you say, given the injustices they face. And my friends and I simply wish to find our ship so we can continue our travels. But the same obstacles stand in all of our way, so what would you say if I told you we could overcome those obstacles, right here and right now?"

You had to hand it to the man: he had a real knack for persuading people to follow his lead, no matter who they were or what they wanted. It was remarkable to watch – all the more so since Harry hadn't been entirely sure he'd ever see him again.

All that worry, and in the end he hadn't even had to search. He should have known to just look for trouble, because that's where the Doctor would be, every time, taking over and running the whole show, just as he was now, talking nineteen to the dozen and organising everyone, whether they liked it or not, in about two minutes flat.

They would infiltrate the Shad's headquarters while their defences were down, the Doctor loftily announced, in two teams: one to locate and recover Ren's stolen cargo and the other to plant a tracking device that would lure the militia to the Shad, rather than the rebels, which should get both parties off everyone's backs, for a time, at least.

It was Ren's turn to regard the Doctor evenly, weighing him up. Then she turned to Harry. "The plan seems sound. Your friend can be trusted?"

"He's never let me down yet," Harry stoutly replied. She narrowed her eyes.

"He dropped you off a building."

The fall wasn't something Harry was likely to forget in a hurry and he still wasn't entirely clear how it had happened exactly, but he was nonetheless certain that, "That was an –"

"Accident, yes, so you say." Ren stared at him for a moment longer. Then she nodded. "Well, we have a contract to fulfil and a reputation to uphold, so." She turned to her comrade. "Get the vehicle hidden, Brun, it's too visible up here. Dilly and I will go."

"You expect me to stay here while you go against the Shad?" Brunnal was all indignation and agitation, but Ren was unmoved.

"Brunnal, you spoke to this man and failed to realise it was the friend Harry was looking for."

"So? If there is one Earth man among the rebels there could be a dozen. How was I to know?" Brunnal grumbled.

"You have many fine qualities, Brun, but stealth is not one of them, and you are _injured_," said Ren. "You'll slow us down and we _need_ this deal, you know we do."

"Ah, well, if you're a man short, why not take Sarah with you?" the Doctor cheerfully suggested. "She'll be able to help, I'm sure."

In fact Sarah's eyes widened slightly upon hearing this, taken by surprise at the suggestion, but she agreed at once. "Of course."

"And I'll take Harry with me," the Doctor decisively continued. "I want to get in there – I'd like to learn more about the Shad."

"What about me?" Rikard eagerly asked. "I should come too, I can help. This is my world, my people –"

"But not your mission," said the Doctor. "We'll take care of this, Rikard. The rest of you can help best by getting these vehicles out of sight before the militia arrive."

Rikard did not look convinced, but Sarah called out, "Trust us, Rikard, we won't let you down," and he brightened and smiled; that was typical Sarah, Harry thought: she could win any heart, convince anyone of anything.

"Come along, then." The Doctor casually sauntered off across the rooftop, hands stuffed into his pockets, and Harry saw Ren blinking in bewilderment, knew the feeling only too well. The Doctor did tend to have that effect, the man was a veritable whirlwind when he really got going, and it was always more startling first time round.

Catching Sarah's eye with a grin that she returned with interest, Harry shrugged and followed, prepared to let the Doctor lead where he would. After all, he generally knew what he was about.

Generally.

They reached ground level via what appeared to be some kind of fire escape, although it mostly resembled a giant slide, which took Harry right back to his childhood. He got out of the way just in time to avoid being clean bowled by Sarah coming down behind him, then reached out to pull her to her feet. "All right there, old thing?"

She smiled, squeezing his hand. "Ground level – do you know, for a while there I wasn't sure we'd ever make it this far."

"For a moment there I thought I would – the hard way," Harry retorted without thinking, and regretted it at once when Sarah shuddered.

"Don't even joke about it."

"Quite," said the Doctor. "Shall we press on?"

It took only a few minutes to reach the rear of the building occupied by the Shad, the Doctor and Ren agreeing that sneaking in at the back door would be a far better option than an attempt on the front entrance, on this occasion.

There was a guard on the door. Peering cautiously around the corner, Ren smiled that wolfish smile of hers. "Good."

"Good?" Sarah shot Harry a Look, as if holding him entirely responsible for the foibles of his allies, which he felt was hardly fair.

It was Dilly who explained, reaching out to tug at Sarah's sleeve with an oversized claw. "They're guarding the door – it means the automatic defences are still down."

"And perhaps everything else, too," the Doctor mused. "No lights."

"That flash bomb was more efficient than you thought, Dilly," Ren concluded, flashing a grin at her comrade.

"Then we've only to get past the guard and we're in," said the Doctor with a dazzling smile. Then he darted out a hand to catch Ren's arm as she raised her gun, switching from genial to stern in an instant. "Ah, ah. No killing."

"You are a strange sort of radical," she complained.

"I'm a strange sort of something," said the Doctor, still stern. "No killing."

Ren turned on Harry much the same sort of look Sarah had just given him, rolling her eyes in exasperation, but she complied nonetheless, putting her gun away. "Have it your way, but I make no promises if we run into trouble in there. The Shad will shoot to kill. You want us all to get out alive?"

"There are times when force is necessary, but this doesn't have to be one of them," the Doctor pointedly said, and with that he was off: striding around the corner toward the guard and pulling yet another of those ubiquitous paper bags out of his capacious pocket as he went. "Hallo there," he called, waving the bag of jelly babies like a shield, and the guard was alert at once, weapon at the ready, swinging around to keep the Doctor covered as he strolled past to lean jauntily against the wall, neatly diverting the man's attention from the rest of the group. "I wonder if you can help, I seem to be lost. I was looking for an information point…"

Once bitten, twice shy – the Shad had had a stranger approach asking for directions once already today and it hadn't gone well for them; Harry started moving the moment he realised the Doctor's ploy, got behind the guard even as he brought his weapon to bear, and hit him as hard as he could.

Bare hands versus armour and a rather thick skull wasn't his most successful ploy ever, but the Doctor settled the matter by taking advantage of the distraction to wrestle the gun from the man's hands and lay him out with it.

"Thank you, Harry," he said with a broad smile, handing Harry the gun as the others hurried to join them. "Eyes peeled, everyone, there'll be more inside."

dwdwdwdwdw

It was pitch dark inside the Shad's building and almost eerily quiet, the stillness broken only by the odd creak or thump somewhere in the distance and the faint squeak of Sarah's shoes, which she'd never noticed before this moment: sandwiched between these two aliens she'd barely met as they crept along a dark, narrow hallway after parting company with the Doctor and Harry.

There'd been a guard on the door, but there was no sign of life in here at all.

So was that a good thing or a bad thing?

"Maybe no one's home," she murmured with a nervous chuckle, a stupid joke just to break the tension because she wished they could just once be that lucky but knew that they weren't. They never were.

"No, they're here. Just not…_here_, here." A murky figure just ahead of her, Ren managed to make a low murmur sound both decisive and definite; if she felt any doubt at all, she wasn't showing it.

Scuttling along at Sarah's heel, Dilly seemed less confident. "Repairs won't take them forever though – they've had long enough. And everywhere won't be as empty as this section."

That was a point.

"Do we know where we're going?" Sarah enquired in a low voice, because she'd been following without really thinking about it, but this building was fairly large and they didn't have a lot of time to search it _and_ not get caught _and_ get back out again, hopefully with the goods, before the militia descended – how long could the Doctor's meddling hold them off?

Ren said, "Yes," in the same moment that Dilly said, "No," which wasn't exactly reassuring, but Ren carried the argument with a huff of exasperation. "Yes, we do," she insisted. "You saw the plans, Dill, same as I did – just along of where we found Brunnal, that locked store, only one way in or out, extra reinforced security doors…I had anything valuable in a dump like this, what's where I'd keep it."

"Sounds good to me," Sarah said with a nervous little chuckle: nervous because, as keen as she was to _help_, to actually achieve something on this rotten world and to get this over with so they could all get out of here already, she felt uneasy in a way that had nothing to do with Shad pirates or government militia in particular – she'd faced plenty worse in her time – but everything to do with this rotten world and her experience of it in general.

She usually found something to enjoy about every world she visited with the Doctor, no matter what, but she couldn't wait to get away from this one. Fat chance of that anytime soon, though.

Was that a sound, somewhere in the distance, back the way they'd come – the way the Doctor and Harry had gone? Sarah stopped and turned, squinted hopelessly, unable to see further than an arm's length ahead in the gloom of the passageway.

"Is something wrong?" Ren had seen her.

If she had heard something, the sound had stopped now. "I'm being silly," Sarah decided.

Ren and Dilly exchanged glances and peered back along the corridor, Ren's forehead furrowed and Dilly's eyestalks swivelling; Sarah wondered if – and how – their alien eyes could make out any more than hers.

"Nothing there," said Dilly at length.

"Like I said." But Sarah let out a long breath, because she couldn't shake this uneasy feeling and she knew what it was now. "I just hope they know what they're doing."

"I hope we know what we're doing," Dilly muttered.

"You mean Harry and your other friend, the Doctor?" Ren shrugged. "Theirs is the easier task."

"I know – I know I'm being silly, it's just…" She found herself chuckling all of a sudden. "You know, I'm sure the Doctor wanted Harry with him just so he could keep an eye on him, in case he got mislaid again."

"Does that seem likely?" Ren led the way onward again.

"Well, it's been that sort of a day," Sarah admitted, and if she was honest she felt much the same way herself, that was the real trouble here: reluctant to let either one of them out of her sight, because, "We only just found each other again."

"It's been that sort of day for us all," said Ren, not unkindly, while Dilly's oversized claw patted at Sarah's arm in something like sympathy, and then they reached a T-junction and saw a light, somewhere around the corner but moving closer, bobbing up and down – a torch, because the lights were still out – and then voices, too, and the _tramp-tramp_ of footsteps, heading their way.

There was nowhere to hide, nothing to do but duck back, press tight against the wall and hope for the best.

Sarah held her breath and wondered what they would do if they were spotted, waited as the footsteps and voices drew nearer and nearer, the bobbing torchlight growing brighter and brighter – would whoever it was turn when they reached this corner? She felt Dilly's claw clutching at her sleeve, in the shadowy half-light of that approaching torch beam saw Ren tense, hand dropping to the gun holstered at her hip – she was planning to fight it out, then…

A moment later the Shad whoever had gone, two or three of them arguing heatedly about ongoing emergency repairs, by the sound of it; someone was getting a dressing down for not having the power back on already, they were almost to the point of exchanging blows over it, and passed by the junction without so much as a glance.

Sarah started breathing again.

"Oh, I never should have left the hive," Dilly's rueful voice muttered from somewhere at her heel.

"You always say that." Ren cautiously led the way onward once more, in the opposite direction than the Shad had gone.

"I mean it this time."

"No you don't." Ren signalled for them both to wait as she opened a door and poked her head around it for a quick peek before giving the all clear to continue up a flight of stairs.

"Well, I will next time," Dilly grumbled, and Sarah found herself smiling, in spite of it all.

dwdwdwdwdw

"So where are we going, exactly?" Harry wondered as he crept along a murky hallway beside the Doctor, and was entirely unprepared for the response.

"I thought you knew."

"What?"

"Well, you've been here before, haven't you?" The Doctor's eyes were wide and innocent, and it was impossible to tell whether or not the man was serious.

"Not this part of the building, no," Harry spluttered.

"Oh?" The Doctor still looked suspiciously innocent. Harry gave in and wracked his brains for the plan of the building's layout he'd seen on Dilly's holographic projector.

"Well, where are we trying to go, then?" he asked. "Was there somewhere particular you wanted to plant that tracking device?"

"What? Oh no, we could leave that anywhere," the Doctor airily dismissed. "But I rather feel we should give the others a little time to carry out their part before we reactivate it, don't you think?"

This rather brought them back to Harry's original question, he felt. "So where are we going?"

"I'd like to know more about the Shad," the Doctor thoughtfully mused. "Well, before we set the militia onto them, it might be a good idea to find out more, wouldn't you say?"

"They abducted Brunnal and killed three of your rebels, just to get their hands on Ren's cargo," said Harry, remembering how suspicious the Shad guards he'd met had been, how quick they'd been to turn on him with guns blazing at the first sign of trouble, the way they'd locked up a wounded man without even the rudiments of first aid.

"So I hear," said the Doctor. "And I'd like to know more."

The Doctor generally had a good reason for most things that he did. Harry thought about it, pictured in his head that holographic plan he'd seen and the moving blobs that had indicated life-forms, tried to work out where they had been in relation to where he was just now.

"Er…this way," he ventured. "I think."

dwdwdwdwdw

"Something puzzles me," said Ren, glancing back at Sarah with sharp, searching eyes.

Before Sarah could reply they had to duck into a handy alcove for cover to avoid a passing Shad – a technician of some kind, by the looks of him, stomping along so furiously that he failed to notice them despite how poorly they were hidden. She waited till he was gone, kept her voice low. "Yes?"

"Harry knows nothing of this world – less than nothing – yet here are you, his friends, working with the dissident movement."

"Well, I wasn't exactly expecting to find him in league with smugglers, either," Sarah retorted, they were about the least likely company she could ever have imagined for straight-laced Naval officer Harry Sullivan, and the other woman snorted, conceding the point.

"We were brought together by circumstance," she said, the corners of her mouth quirking in what looked like amusement.

"The same for us," Sarah told her. "Sometimes you encounter people – situations – and you have to make a choice. Walk away or stay and help. We chose to help."

Saying it out loud like that really drove the point home. For all her doubts and concerns, for all the murkiness of the situation they'd found on this world, politics and economics and shades of grey, no invader to tear down and no clear-cut enemy to oppose…they'd made a choice to support Rikard and his allies in their struggle to forge a better world, and she couldn't regret that, no matter what, because she believed in freedom and equality, and in the right of these people to fight for those ideals.

Even if she did also believe that their strategic thinking could use some work.

Ren lifted an eyebrow. "And here we all are."

"Here we are," Sarah softly agreed, and then let out a wry chuckle, because here they were: "Stealing smuggled goods from a bunch of pirates to give to a band of rebels who want to change the world." Put like that, it sounded absurd – but she'd seen and done far stranger things, in her time.

"To sell," Dilly primly corrected. "We do sympathise with the rebels' cause but we have needs also. This is business. Our goods are to be sold, not given."

"If we can find them." Ren hesitated as they reached another junction, her brow furrowing as she glanced furtively along the corridor in each direction, squinting in the murky half-light.

Sarah knew that look; she'd seen it many times on many faces. "Are we lost?"

"It looks different in the dark." Ren turned to her comrade. "You were here with me before, Dilly. You don't remember the way? It can't be much further now."

Dilly's eye stalks swivelled around, accompanied by a curious sniffing gesture of the antennae. "It was this way."

"You're sure?"

Another swivel of the eye stalks was followed by a full body nod. "I'm sure."

"On we go, then," Sarah murmured.

They rounded the corner just as the lights came back on, almost blindingly brilliant after the murky gloom.

A moment later a Shad stepped out of a concealed doorway and his jaw dropped with surprise when he saw the three intruders.

dwdwdwdwdw

Harry and the Doctor had to scramble when the lights came back on, to avoid unexpected approaching guards, or some such, and then realised they'd somehow ended up more or less where they wanted to go.

Where the Doctor wanted to go, at any rate.

It was an office suite, the business end of the Shad's headquarters, and someone, behind a closed door at the far end of the vestibule area, was not happy.

"This is a farce!" that someone was shouting. "First you let them infiltrate, then you let them escape! You let them take down every system we have –"

"We have lights now, Lathor…" another voice sullenly argued as Harry followed the Doctor's lead, cautiously creeping toward the closed door to peek through the viewing pane at what was going on inside: an argument between two aliens – the same sort of heavy-set, red-eyed and be-fanged creatures he'd seen earlier, belligerent and angry and armed.

"Oh, we have lights. We have lights! After how long? And we have lights – at last, we're saved!" The mocking became a menacing growl. "We got the Vox-Leon rep due in under an hour – he sees this mess, the whole deal's off, everything we've worked toward. Tell the fools if full systems aren't restored before then, I'll have them all shot. Go!"

The order was abrupt, took a moment to sink in, but then the Doctor whispered, "Uh oh," and they had about three seconds to get out of sight before the door flew open.

Harry wheeled away, scanning the room in panic for a hiding place, and found a tall upright cabinet to dash behind. He saw the Doctor throw himself to the floor behind a low bench nearby just in time as the beleaguered Shad underling stalked out and away at speed, huffing and puffing and angrily muttering to himself.

The outer door slammed shut behind him. Harry ventured out of his hiding place to find the Doctor picking himself up off the floor, eyeing the inner door with a thoughtful expression.

"What a charming fellow. Let's pop in and say hello," he suggested in a low voice, to Harry's alarm.

"What? I don't think that's such a good idea, Doctor."

"Nonsense, Harry, it's a splendid idea – straight to the horse's mouth," the Doctor insisted. "Come on."

He flung open the door and strode in.

dwdwdwdwdw

"Oh dear," said Dilly as the startled Shad stared at the trio of intruders, reaching for a weapon with an angry shout…

A second later he was on the ground, shot down by the gun that was suddenly in Ren's hand, and it was Sarah's turn to stare. It had happened so fast, and as always in these circumstances she wondered whether she should feel glad that an enemy had been taken down so easily or appalled by such casual extinction of life, when so many had already died and so senselessly. This wasn't a mindless monster, after all, but a person doing a job; an illegal, immoral and violent job, perhaps, but could these smugglers – could any of them – really claim to be any better if they took life so readily?

Ren had already started to move again, cautiously opening the door the man had come out of and then gesturing for Dilly to help her pull the body into the empty room beyond. "We must be quick," she urged. "Brunnal was held along here, so the store room should be…there."

They hurried to it.

"No guard," Sarah observed. "Is that good or bad?"

Ren shrugged. "Busy with repairs, perhaps, and they believe the room is secure. We shall see. Extra reinforced security doors, but without power to that system…"

Dilly had already moved to start working at the lock. It had a keypad requiring input of a combination code, but Ren was right: the system was powered down.

"Looks like it overloaded when the flash bomb went off, and without power the lock seals tight by default – but I can trip it," said Dilly with a note of triumph, producing a small device that affixed to the lock and began to whirr slightly, for a number of painstakingly slow seconds that felt more like hours, someone could be along at any moment…but at last the tiniest of clicks signalled the unlocking of the door and they were in.

dwdwdwdwdw

There were days, Harry told himself, when to all intents and purposes the Doctor appeared to have something of a death wish – he would blithely stroll into the deadliest of situations with his hands in his pockets and a whistle on his lips, and no more protection than that, and yet. And yet somehow it worked, every time.

It probably helped, of course, when he had someone like Harry on hand to provide back-up with a stolen gun.

To say that the Shad called Lathor was surprised when they walked in would be putting it mildly, to say the least. He leapt to his feet with a shout and went straight for his gun, so Harry also went for his – rather wishing the Brigadier was here to see this swift reaction time – and the Doctor smiled as if he hadn't a care in the world. "Stalemate," he brightly observed of the resultant standoff. "It's Lathor, isn't it? May we have a word?"

Lathor boggled. "Who are you?" he demanded, when he'd recovered his voice, the question aimed at the Doctor although his attention remained focused on the gun in Harry's hand, and Harry knew if his own attention or aim wavered even for a moment he'd had it – they both had. "How did you get in here?"

"Well, I opened the door and I walked in," the Doctor oh-so innocently replied. "I was expecting rather more security, I will admit. You don't mind, do you?"

"Yes," snapped Lathor. "Who sent you?"

"You think someone sent us?"

"It was _him_, wasn't it? How did he find me?" Lathor had begun to edge his way sideways toward a kind of desk nearby, which appeared to have some kind of computer console built into it; Harry watched him warily, wondering if he should do something, and glanced toward the Doctor to see if he'd noticed. He had.

"Well, I didn't realise you thought you were lost," the Doctor replied in his most amiable tone. "But I'd advise you not to take another step toward that alarm I presume you were hoping to operate, you see my friend here has rather a twitchy trigger finger, isn't that right, Harry? Your finger is on the trigger, isn't it, Harry?" he added as a murmured aside.

"Er, yes, Doctor," Harry replied, hoping it was true since this Shad weapon was nothing like the one Ren had given him earlier. People would insist on handing him these alien guns, assuming he'd know how to operate them, yet the function really wasn't always as obvious as one might expect. He adjusted his grip on the weapon slightly and hoped he wouldn't have to use it.

"What do you want?" Lathor snarled, the angle of his gun shifting to cover the unarmed Doctor instead of Harry now, not that the Doctor seemed to notice. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly.

"Oh dear, dear, Lathor, your memory is almost as bad as your security. I've already explained. I'd like to talk to you."

"About?"

"About your operation here, of course," said the Doctor, now strolling around the room seemingly at random, poking at the fixtures and fittings.

Lathor's suspicious expression hardened into anger. "Then he did send you, I knew it. He must be scraping the barrel to send two Earth men to spy on me! Could he do no better than that?"

"Well, I'm not an Earth man, in fact, but it's a very common mistake." The Doctor had reached the desk and was peering curiously at the computer console. "And if I were spying, I like to think I'd be rather more discreet than this. I really do just want to talk to you, Lathor. I'm interested to know what you're doing here."

"Making a point – stay away from there!" the Shad angrily replied, switching his aim back and fore between the two of them, now pointing the gun at Harry, now at the Doctor, now at Harry again, to and fro like that yo-yo the Doctor liked to play with. Harry tried not to let himself be distracted by all this, kept his eyes and his stolen gun firmly trained on the enemy to maintain the standoff.

The Doctor lifted his hands from the computer, but did not step away from it. "Well, if I may say, you're not making it terribly well. This place is a shambles!"

"A temporary set-back!"

"If you insist," the Doctor shrugged, his tone laced with scepticism, and Lathor exploded.

"I _will_ have respect! I _will not_ be disinherited!"

The Doctor lifted an eyebrow. "Disinherited, is it?"

"To promote Garob over me – me!" raged Lathor. "Did he tell you that when he sent you here to spy on me, did he tell you he'd pushed me aside for an outsider? Do you understand what that means?"

"Well, I think I'm beginning to. You see, Harry," the Doctor began, adopting a scholarly air and leaning against the desk as if preparing to deliver a lecture. "Sarah likened the Shad to the Mafia, and I don't think she was so very far out. The Shad hegemony is something of a family business, is that right, Lathor?"

"It _was_," Lathor sullenly replied. "Don't you even know who you're working for?"

"Well, I do sometimes wonder." The Doctor turned back to Harry, as if he thought he might not be keeping up. "Organised crime on an interplanetary scale, Harry – piracy, money-lending, racketeering and the like – and Lathor here has been disinherited."

"Yes, Doctor," said Harry, since he appeared to be expecting some kind of response and what else was there to say?

"Haven't got what it takes," Lathor spat. "That's what he said. Did he tell you that?"

"So you persuaded – or perhaps bribed – a squad or two of company men to follow you out here to…what, set up a rival operation?"

"_I_ found this opening – _he_ barely even knows this outpost exists, said it wasn't worth bothering with." Lathor began to pace agitatedly, waving his hands in fury, and seemed almost to have forgotten that Harry still had a gun on him – and that he was still holding his own.

"So you're out to prove him wrong, are you?" the Doctor pressed.

"This world is perfect, ripe for the squeeze."

"Knocking off a few underground traders? Robbing the poor to sell to the rich? It's hardly the stuff on which empires are built."

Lathor's fierce red eyes flashed angrily. "So that's your report, is it? You'll go back and tell him I've failed? Ha! This is only the beginning. I have backers, influential."

"Oh yes, I'm sure you're very capable, given half a chance," said the Doctor in that gentle, encouraging tone he used so often to lull opponents into a false sense of security, practically inviting them to confide their dastardly plans in him. "You have big plans, I can tell."

"Big plans? Have you seen this world? I could rule this world!"

"Well, that certainly is a big plan," the Doctor mildly agreed. "Tell me more about these backers of yours?"

"Why, so you can report back to _him_, let him take this from me and claim the success as his? It's not going to happen, you know? You'll never get a report out – you'll never leave this place alive."

"Well, in that case, you may as well explain what you're planning anyway, make a clean breast of it," the Doctor wheedled. "We won't tell anyone, will we, Harry?"

"Doesn't sound as if we'll get the chance, Doctor," Harry agreed in the mildest tone he could muster while wondering just how the Doctor thought they actually were going to get out of here.

"Start small, build high, that's the family motto, you know," Lathor boasted. "So I am. Oh, this is a small operation now, but we're growing. Can't move without a power base, you see, but I know what I'm doing, I can find an opening anywhere, as many as it takes. I'll get there in the end."

"Power base…? Ah, so that's what this is all about," the Doctor realised. "Disinheritance – you're planning a coup."

dwdwdwdwdw

The storeroom was large, only dimly lit and smelled musty, piled high with crates and boxes and high racks of equipment in no apparent order; the pirates' loot, apparently.

Ren and Dilly seemed impressed. "They've been busy."

"Well, so should we be," Sarah reminded them. "Can you see your cargo?"

"Our crates were marked…there." Ren strode over, Dilly scuttling at her heel, and quickly set about opening up the crates in question, just two of them, to check on the goods.

"So that's it?" Sarah wrinkled her nose. She'd expected something more…_more_, somehow.

"This is it: weapons, mineral supplements." Ren gestured to each in turn.

"It doesn't seem much." Especially compared to the amount of stuff the Shad had stashed away in here.

"We don't pretend to compete with the likes of the Shad," Ren scornfully replied. "A little goes a long way, and the weapons were only an initial consignment. It was hoped there would be more to follow. If we pull this off, perhaps there still will be." She turned to look around again. "I wonder – would the payload also be in here, or is there another…ah."

Dilly had already spotted the same thing, some kind of safe set into the far wall, and scuttled across to poke at it with deft, purposeful movements of nimble antennae. "Coskitano 4900 – give me a moment."

"There may not be many moments to spare," Sarah murmured, feeling rather like a spare part. There didn't seem to be anything much she could do to help, these two certainly knew what they were doing – a reminder that they weren't exactly the good guys even if they were allies in this situation.

Still, it was far from the first time she'd found herself on the wrong side of the law in pursuit of a worthy cause.

The door to the safe swung open and Ren laughed out loud in delight. "Look at that, Dill – we can refuel and repair after all."

Dilly's bulbous eyes shone brightly "So much. Do we take ours or all?"

"All, of course…no, wait." Ren checked herself. "Blast my eyes. We can't – can't steal the evidence if that Doctor really is bringing the militia on the Shad, we want them taken down. Do you see what else I see?"

Dilly had stilled. "I see it."

"What is it?" Intrigued, Sarah peered over the shoulders of the aliens to see what they'd found.

"A problem this world could do without." Ren pulled out a package about the size of a bag of sugar, securely wrapped – just one of about a dozen neatly stacked at the back of the safe – and something about it pinged a memory, something Sarah had seen on television, perhaps, on the news.

"Drugs?" She wasn't sure why she was surprised.

Ren pushed the package back into the safe in disgust. "Let the militia take them all. Just so long as they don't take us, also. Grab what's ours, Dill, a fair share and we'll away – what's that you've found?"

Dilly had pulled out a stack of thin sheets of flexible plastic, rather like paper, covered with neatly printed notations, nimble antennae delicately sifting through them. "Documentation – accounts, reports…"

"Don't move!"

It was more a snarl than a shout and came from behind them. Sarah span around just in time to see a Shad guard hitting a button on the wall, triggering some kind of alarm, and felt her mouth drop open in exasperated shock, because, "Oh, of all the things to get working again!"

She dived for cover as shots began to fly.

dwdwdwdwdw

The Doctor had just persuaded Lathor to put his gun away for a proper conversation – which meant, in turn, that Harry could also lower his weapon at last – when an alarm began to sound, somewhere deep within the building. And that was the end of that. In the space of a heartbeat, Lathor went from malicious pleasure at unveiling to the 'spies' full details of his plan to make his fortune bleeding this world dry and then launch a bid for Shad leadership – a plan they would never, he took great delight in repeatedly informing them, get the chance to relay to the current Shad leadership – to full-blown ballistic fury.

"This was a trick, a distraction, what have you done?" he roared, reaching for his gun…which was no longer in the holster at his hip.

The Doctor had snuck it out while he wasn't looking and waved it at him. "Plan B, Harry – run!"

As with most things where the Doctor was concerned, this was easier said than done, Lathor blocking the exit and charging at them not unlike a raging bull, but the Doctor dodged him as easily as a child playing games in the yard, and if this were the equivalent of a playground game then Harry was far more familiar with the rules than he'd once been. The Doctor zigged, Harry zagged, and between them they evaded Lathor's attacks and ducked past and out of the door, which the Doctor promptly locked behind them with his sonic screwdriver.

"The tracker?" Harry remembered to ask.

The Doctor grinned. "It seemed a fair exchange for this," he said, handing the purloined weapon to Harry to add to the one he already had.

They ran for it.

dwdwdwdwdw

Sarah cringed as another shot whistled over her head, close enough to singe her hair, and tried to duck lower, but it was no good: this crate she'd dived behind simply wasn't big enough to provide proper cover.

Nearby, Ren was pressed against a slightly larger stack of crates, gun in hand, trying to get a better look at their attacker. Sarah caught her eye in an attempt to wordlessly signal her predicament and Ren offered the tiniest of nods in reply – message received and understood. She leaned around the crates to return fire, and that was Sarah's cue to move.

She went for it, half-crawling, half-dashing on legs filled with jelly from behind her own meagre hiding place to Ren's slightly more secure position. She just barely made it and skidded to an ungainly halt, gasping for breath. No matter how many times she did this, being shot at never got any easier.

Just behind them, Dilly was still at the safe, quivering and twitching with alarm but nonetheless doggedly scanning through the documentation they'd found item by item. Sarah allowed herself just a moment to re-gather her nerves before crawling closer, curious to know what was so important about the paperwork. "What are you looking for?"

"Anything that incriminates us!"

She hadn't thought of that, remembered that the Shad had attacked the smugglers when they met with the rebels to trade, and if there was documentation of that mission it might also point back to Rikard and his people, which was just what they were trying to avoid.

"Here, let me help." She took some of the documents from Dilly and started to scan through them as quickly as she could, trying hard not to think about the gunfight still going on just behind her, every muscle in her body taut with anticipation of a stray shot finding its target – she wouldn't even see it coming with her back to the door like this, and how much protection could those crates truly provide?

"Company's here." Ren dropped back behind the crates to catch breath. "I think I got one, but I can't get a clear shot, they keep moving, too much cover."

Sarah risked a glance. She couldn't see much from here, but Ren was right: more Shad guards had arrived to join the fight – bulky shapes with glowing red eyes, lurking in the shadows. From what she could tell they had good defensive positions and probably armour, plus, obviously, control of the only exit, not to mention goodness only knew how many reinforcements elsewhere in the building. Ren had her gun and wasn't afraid to use it, but they were hopelessly pinned down in here. There seemed to be no way to escape.

"Nothing, nothing, I think we might be clear – anything?" Dilly's urgent voice brought Sarah back to the task at hand. She glanced through the last few papers.

"No, no, no…" A line caught her eye. "Wait – yes, here's something." No time to read it properly now though. She stuffed the offending document into a pocket and shoved the rest back into the safe. "But if there's more somewhere else, I don't like our chances of finding it. How are we going to get out of here?"

It was hard to read expression on that oh-so alien face, but the fear in the wide, bulbous eyes was unmistakeable. "I don't know." Dilly's voice quavered. "I don't know, they have us pinned, perhaps if we…no, wait!" An oversized claw snapped at Sarah's arm in sudden excitement. "The crate, can you reach the crate?"

Claws and antennae all stabbed furiously toward the crates Dilly and Ren had pulled aside as their stolen cargo…their stolen cargo containing weapons.

Of course.

Was there any chance they might fight their way out of this? Sarah thought of Rikard and his people, so unwavering in their determination to fight for a better world against overwhelming odds, no matter what the cost, and knew they had to try.

"Can you reach? I can't…" Dilly repeated, arms waving in agitation: too short, too awkwardly positioned on that oddly shaped body for the manoeuvre that would be necessary to grab the thing.

"And make it fast, I'm almost out," Ren snapped, ducking back down to catch her breath as another barrage of shots rained down. How much longer would these crates hold out?

"All right, here goes." Down on all fours and keeping low, Sarah nervously edged toward the box of weapons, nearer and nearer until she reached the limit of the meagre protection afforded by the crates and had to stretch a tentative arm out into the space beyond.

She heard gunfire once more – Ren, using up the last of her ammunition to provide cover – but couldn't allow herself to look, had to focus on the task at hand.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the crate, found a handhold and hauled it back, breathless with the effort. "Got it!"

Dilly dived for the crate and hauled the lid off, and Sarah tried to steel herself for the inevitable. Could she really shoot someone, even in the not-so-cold blood of pitched battle? She'd never killed anyone, never, felt sick at the thought, but there were times when force was necessary and perhaps this was one of them because surrender didn't look like an option. She didn't want to hurt anyone but she also didn't want to die, wondered frantically what else they could do…but then instead of guns Dilly pulled out an odd pole with a strange kind of attachment at one end.

A moment later it was thrust into Sarah's hands with an urgent explanation. "You have longer reach than I do. This end to the floor like so, hold it upright, vertical – head below the bulb, that's important – then press _here_."

"I'm out." Ren dropped back from firing position, voice sharp with alarm. "They're coming, do it now!"

Sarah didn't even know what the device did, but there was no choice and there was no time. All she could do was trust. As the others dropped flat, she gripped the pole tight, ducked below the business end and pressed the button.

The effect was instantaneous: a powerful burst of energy that surged out from the bulbous attachment at the top of the device, pulsing across the room in a flat horizontal wave, just inches above Sarah's head.

A second later there was a series of thuds and she saw Ren and Dilly jump up again at once, tucking away the pouch of money they'd taken from the safe and reaching for the crates that held their stolen cargo.

Unsure what had just happened, Sarah ventured upright and saw several Shad sprawled ignominiously across the floor, unmoving. What had she done?

"Are they dead?"

"Of a stun-pulse? Hardly." Ren shook her head and a wave of relief washed over Sarah. Maybe they'd die anyway when the militia came, if they chose to fight it out, but _not by my hand_. "They're stunned – but the effect won't last long, so we have to move, fast."

dwdwdwdwdw

The Doctor shouted something indistinct over his shoulder, the words completely lost in the muffling folds of his voluminous scarf.

Harry couldn't spare any breath to ask him to repeat the statement, running full tilt through too-bright hallways he could only hope would lead them back to the exit; he'd long since lost all sense of direction. He realised too late that the Doctor had skidded to a halt, rounded a corner and barrelled straight into an oncoming Shad – who, fortunately, was every bit as startled as he was.

They both went flying in a tangle of flailing limbs. The sharp edge of a gun barrel clutched tight in a fist caught Harry a glancing blow across the temple as he fell, and he thrashed wildly to wrench it from the other man's hand and return the favour with rather more force – wincing slightly, because he knew the damage a blow to the head could cause, but needs must.

The Shad stopped struggling and fell back. Breathing hard, Harry dabbed a hand at the side of his head and found it tender but no blood, then bent to check on his opponent. Out for the count but breathing steadily; he'd live to fight another day. And Harry now had a third Shad weapon to add to his collection.

A hand entered his field of vision and he took it, was pulled to his feet with remarkable ease to find the Doctor looking amused. "Unorthodox but effective," he boomed. "Come on, keep moving."

They were within sight of the exit at last when the sound of heavy footfalls and laboured breathing signalled multiple someones approaching from the other direction. The Doctor promptly skidded to a halt and flung an arm across Harry's chest, but the warning wasn't needed this time. Harry raised one of his stolen guns knowing it couldn't possibly save them, expecting a squad of armed Shad to come into sight at any moment…but instead Sarah, Ren and Dilly came into view, equally apprehensive and weighed down by the heavy crates they were hauling between them.

"Sarah!" Harry ran forward to take an end of one of the crates to ease the load and Sarah didn't protest in the slightest, a sure sign of how serious the situation was. The Doctor urged them on, Ren gasped that she thought they were being followed, and they ran for the exit.

Outside, in the poorly-lit murk of night, a new problem immediately arose. "The vehicles," Dilly squeaked. "Where'd Brunnal hide the vehicles?"

There was shouting from within the building now; the Shad were definitely in hot pursuit.

"This way!" an urgent call beckoned. It was Rikard, running toward them from around the corner of a neighbouring building. "You did it, you've got it, let me help!"

They kept moving, meeting Rikard halfway, and he eagerly reached out to help carry the crates, the Doctor still urging them on, "Quickly, quickly," and then the shooting started.

A lot of things seemed to happen all in the same moment as a hail of bullets flew all around. Rikard was hit, flew backward with the impact and lay still, thick dark blood pooling around him. The crate he'd just taken the strain of fell sideways as Dilly and Ren staggered at the sudden loss of support, and Ren whipped around, reaching for her gun – only to curse that she had no ammunition. Harry dropped his own crate, dimly aware that Sarah had done the same with her end; she and the Doctor were rushing to Rikard, and every instinct he had as a medical professional told him to do likewise, but he couldn't because defence had to come first, there were too many lives at stake. He pulled out the weapons he'd acquired from the Shad and tossed one to Ren, another to Dilly, began to return fire himself, distantly noting that the unfamiliar trigger mechanism was actually remarkably easy to use, he didn't know what he'd been worried about – but the Shad had them outnumbered and outgunned and they had no place to hide, there was no way out of this…

Then he felt his heart leap into his throat as Sarah let out a strangled cry and dropped across Rikard's body like a puppet with its strings cut.

dwdwdwdwdw


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

Sarah had missed something, she realised as she awoke to a murmur of voices. She lay still for a moment examining her recent memory, which was filled with chaos and gunshots and pain, all of which were noticeably absent just now. She'd definitely missed something important.

She opened her eyes half-expecting to be locked up somewhere, because when weren't they, to find instead that she was back aboard the smugglers' shuttle, with Harry and the Doctor hovering over her. Harry promptly began to check her pulse, all professional concern and bluster, while the Doctor smiled his gentlest smile. "Welcome back, Sarah Jane."

Yes, she'd missed something all right. Sarah groaned and tried to push herself upright. "I didn't know I'd gone anywhere."

"Well, not quite, but you did give us rather a scare, old thing." Harry was still fluttering around, trying to help her sit up, and she batted his hands away to do it herself.

"That makes us even, then. I'm all right, Harry, don't fuss." It was all starting to come back now: the Shad in armed pursuit with nowhere to hide, and the sharp, searing shock of pain that had taken her feet from under her. There was blood all over her shirt, so it had definitely happened. She felt absolutely fine now, though, which meant: "The healing unit, you used the healing unit." She looked past the Doctor and Harry in search of Valina. "But you said you couldn't afford to waste a single drop."

Valina was pale and drawn, but she spoke with conviction. "This was not waste."

"Thank you." The words didn't seem enough.

"Valina's been very generous," said Harry. "We've got Brunnal's leg wound all patched up now as well."

"I should have offered it sooner," Valina quietly said.

"So why the long faces…?" The words were barely out of Sarah's mouth when she realised. "Rikard."

He wasn't here – he'd been hit before Sarah and he wasn't here now, and one look at the sombre expressions all around told her everything she needed to know, even before she saw the shrouded shape in the corner.

"No – no, he can't be – no, you had the healing unit…"

"The unit is a powerful tool, but it has limits." It was Ren who spoke. "It can heal almost any wound, but cannot restore life once extinguished."

"Nothing we could do, I'm afraid." Harry took her hand and gave it a sympathetic squeeze, best bedside manner in full force; he'd barely met Rikard but still she read regret in his face and voice. Doctors hated losing patients, she distantly told herself. It was a sentiment she could understand.

"But all this was for him." Less than a day's acquaintance, yet Rikard's passion and drive had made a deep impression; it seemed impossible that he could be gone, and for what? "He was fighting for his people, he had such plans…"

"Well, not just him, Sarah," the Doctor gently said. "Rikard chose to fight for a cause, and he wasn't afraid of dying for it. He knew that others would take his place."

"Others…" Sarah thought about the rag-tag little band who'd gone to the detention centre in search of their captured allies, remembered the massacre at the superstore, so many who'd turned out to protest for fairer conditions, gunned down where they stood. "What hope do they have now?"

"The same hope they always had," said the Doctor, still in that soft yet resolute tone. "Belief in their common cause, in each other – we won't let them down."

"What about the Shad?" She couldn't believe she'd forgotten. "They were right behind us – how…?"

The Doctor rubbed his chin and shrugged in that way he had that meant something he would dearly love to claim as a stroke of genius on his part had actually been sheer luck and nothing more. "I suppose you might say we got away with a little help from our enemies."

Sarah was none the wiser until Harry translated. "The militia showed up just in the nick of time, Sarah."

"Rather quicker off the mark than I expected – not that I'm complaining, of course," the Doctor loftily admitted.

"And the Shad suddenly found that they had more pressing concerns than our theft," Ren finished the story, moving to sit at the low table nearby with a piece of that fruit Sarah had tried earlier.

"So the plan worked." Sarah tried to feel pleased.

"The plan worked," the Doctor sombrely agreed, and then asked Brunnal to check the scanner again. "Best keep an eye on what's going on out there, find out if it's safe to move yet."

Brunnal disappeared into the shuttle's cockpit for a few moments before returning to report that the militia appeared to have gained entry to the Shad building.

"How much of a fight are they giving?" Ren wanted to know, to which Brunnal gave a shrug almost as expansive as anything the Doctor habitually mustered up.

"Hard to say – they're a well-armed rabble."

"Well, this is just a splinter group, isn't it," the Doctor mused, and that was news to Sarah, although he made it sound as if it were something obvious that they all should know. "Just starting out, experiencing their share of teething troubles – I believe your little visit earlier today played a part there. A spot of disorganisation is only to be expected. Given time, though, they'd build up a power base, turn this world into a battlefield when the parent organisation came calling. No, they must be stamped out, here and now, before they have time to take root."

"We found a lot of evidence," Sarah told him. "Stolen goods, money – drugs – and there's paperwork, too, so that's an audit trail for the authorities to follow."

"With any luck it'll lead them in some interesting directions," the Doctor said with a sudden grin. "The Shad have been striking deals with a few of the larger corporations, you know: quid pro quo, lots of mutual back scratching being lined up. What a remarkable day for the militia – come looking for dissidents, find organised crime. Let's just hope they have the backbone to do something about it."

"So it's over, then?" Harry spoke up now. "Isn't it? We can leave – just have to pick our moment and sneak away while the coast's clear?"

"Well, on the one hand: yes," said the Doctor. "But then again, on the other hand: no."

Sarah sighed and rolled her eyes at Harry. "We might have known there'd be a catch. So what is it?"

"There are quite a few 'its', in fact, Sarah. I mean, first of all, poor Rikard purchased supplies on behalf of his fellow dissidents and is no longer with us to take possession of the goods."

"I will take care of that," Valina unexpectedly spoke up. "He used my sat-com; I have his codes. I can make contact with his people to pass on the supplies."

"Are you sure?" Sarah was startled by the offer. "It's illegal – what about your job, your family?"

Valina looked afraid, glanced nervously at the shrouded corpse in the corner, but held her head high. "This morning I was proud to have my job, but now…" She shook her head. "No, I won't close my eyes any longer. So yes, I am sure, and I will see that his family group are told of his courage."

There was a sudden lump in Sarah's throat. She reached out to squeeze Valina's hand, while the Doctor smiled gently. "That's a brave decision, Valina, I'm sure it will be appreciated. But we're all forgetting something."

"What's that?"

"The second of our 'its': Rikard's allies from the protest this morning – the survivors, that is. They also chose to fight for that greater cause and don't deserve what this regime will do to them for speaking out."

"Well, they'll be locked up in the detention centre still, won't they?" Sarah remembered.

"Unless they've been processed and moved on already, but I think not, so yes."

Ren gave him a curious look. "You actually believe you can free them, don't you?"

"Oh, I'm certain we can," the Doctor confidently declared, grinning from ear to ear.

"The attempt would be suicide."

His grin widened. "Are you with us?"

Ren let out an exasperated sigh and looked toward her two allies. Dilly chittered in a way Sarah couldn't interpret, while Brunnal threw up his hands in a gesture of defeat, rolling his eyes. Ren nodded, turning back to the Doctor. "I asked your friend there that same question, not so long ago," she said, nodding toward Harry. "And now here we all are. So there it is. We must be mad, but fine, yes. We've come this far. We'll see it through."

"Splendid!" the Doctor crowed. "Now, I've had rather a good idea…"

dwdwdwdwdw

The Doctor was full of bright ideas but the last one had ended in gunfire and blood. Scurrying in his wake through dimly-lit streets and gloomy alleys, darting from one shadow to the next, Harry sincerely hoped that this one would go a little more smoothly, and that what they were fighting for – he was still hazy on the specifics – was worth it.

The Doctor and Sarah thought it was worth it, and even Dilly and the other smugglers sympathised with these rebels. That was good enough for him – had to be, there was no backing out now.

"This way," the Doctor hissed in a piercing whisper and Harry had to run to keep up. They'd circled around the block and were now heading back toward the Shad building once more, from a less visible angle, until at last the Doctor came screeching to a halt and grabbed at his sleeve to pull him down behind a low wall, crumbling with neglect. "Aha, there's one," he murmured, sounding pleased with himself.

"A militia vehicle?" Harry leaned past the Doctor to get a look at their target, the nearest of a whole string of sizeable air-cars dotted around the building in haphazard fashion. The markings were unfamiliar and yet somehow instantly recognisable as the stamp of authority.

"Just what we need – now to get on board…" The Doctor began to creep out from behind the wall, but then pulled back. "They've left a man behind! That'll never do." He was as indignant as if the militia had insulted him personally by leaving a guard on their vehicles while they subdued the Shad, as if they'd done it deliberately to thwart him.

Harry peered past his shoulder again to get a look at the rear-guard militia, who was lounging in the nearest vehicle and, even hidden behind heavy armour, contrived to look both bored and tense. For what the Doctor had planned, they would need to gain access to one of those vehicles, and that guard was hardly likely to oblige them. "So we need a distraction."

"We do." The Doctor pursed his lips thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes at the guard as he weighed up the options, and then dug deep in a pocket for his sonic screwdriver, which he offered to Harry. "All right, I'll draw him off, Harry. This is what you'll need to do –"

"No, Doctor, not this time." Harry had half-expected something of the kind and was quick to counter the suggestion, which was typical of the man: he'd go out of his way to protect his friends from a perceived risk on the one hand even while leading them head first into danger on the other. They'd done something similar before, to great effect – Harry could follow instruction well enough, that was something he'd certainly learned on these travels, no matter how unfamiliar the task – but it didn't seem the most sensible division of labour here. If time was of the essence, and it usually was, there was a much more straightforward way of going about things. "I can run quite fast, you know. You see to the transmission. I'll take care of the guard."

The Doctor eyed him rather severely for a moment, but then grinned. "Go on, then, if you insist. Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes, Doctor?"

"Be careful!"

dwdwdwdwdw

"Oh, that's better." Rolling her shoulders to ease tension in the muscles, Sarah stepped out of the shuttle's tiny washroom feeling almost human again after a quick wash and a change of clothes, kindly loaned by the smugglers – some kind of flight suit, similar to the one Harry was wearing; it was far too long in both the leg and arm, but at least it was clean. She winched in the belt as tight as it would go to gather up a little of the excess fabric, re-rolled a sleeve that was already falling down over her fingers, and looked around for one or other of the smugglers to say thank you.

They weren't here; busy hooking up Valina's little run-around to the back of the shuttle as planned, presumably, while the Doctor and Harry were still off on their little mission that she was apparently far too recently almost killed to even think about joining. They'd both been adamant about that, a rare moment of total synchronicity, despite the fact that she felt absolutely fine; she'd expect it of Harry, fusspot that he was, but this new version of the Doctor, since his _change_, wasn't usually. She must have really scared him this time, and that coming on top of the fall from that tower. Valina was alone in the shuttle's living area, pale and drawn, her hair tumbling loose from its formerly elaborate styling, staring pensively at the shrouded corpse in the corner.

Carefully folding the crumpled document she'd taken from the Shad and stowing it away in a pocket of this new outfit, Sarah softly called, "Penny for them," and Valina startled.

"I'm sorry?"

"It's an old Earth saying. It means, 'what are you thinking?'"

"I was thinking," Valina replied, her tone contemplative, "That my life has changed. And that I did not expect that, when I left my home this morning."

"I don't suppose anyone ever does." Sarah sat alongside her. "I know I didn't, the day I met the Doctor."

Valina's dark eyes turned toward her, curious. "What was your life before?"

"I was a journalist, on Earth." She heard herself using the past tense without thinking about it, and it brought her up short. When had she started thinking that way about a career that had once been so important, as important as Valina's job was to her? "Technically, I suppose I still am, when I'm at home – which hasn't been for a while now."

"So instead, you now…do this?" Valina waved her hands in an all-encompassing gesture, to which Sarah huffed a rueful chuckle.

"We travel, that's all. We don't always know where we're going and we hardly ever know what to expect when we get there, but…it often does involve situations like this, yes. And worse."

"Worse?" Valina falteringly echoed. "I went to work as normal this morning and witnessed a massacre in the name of good order, now I may no longer have a job, I'm involved in law-breaking, more have died – and you talk of worse."

Sarah took a moment to think carefully before she replied, because Valina was right, in a sense, and yet there was so much more to it than that – for her, at least.

"You know, I'd never seen death before I met the Doctor," she said at length. "My parents died when I was only a baby, so I never knew them, or my grandparents. There was no extended family, not like yours – just me and my Aunt Lavinia, and she's indestructible. So I'd never known death, until I met the Doctor and began to travel with him. We've seen wars and invasions – terrible things, you never get used to it." Her eyes were drawn once more to the shrouded shape in the corner, all that energy and passion extinguished forever, and she thought about how close they'd come to losing Harry, how close she'd come to losing her own life, more than once today. "But I've learned that what matters is what you choose do about it. Do you stand by and let the terrible things happen, or do you make a stand, in whatever small way you can?"

She'd said something similar to Ren earlier – had thought it to herself many times during many adventures, when she'd been cold and hungry and scared, and needed reminding. They'd all had choices to make today, Valina no less than the rest of them, and those choices had brought them all here, to this point.

Valina let out a shuddering sigh that was pure regret but then nodded. "I didn't know, when I agreed to help you, that I was making a stand. But I knew about the protests, since the unrest began, I'd seen the news reports and was glad of my own comfort and security. I never stopped to think…"

"Until you saw it with your own eyes," Sarah softly finished for her. "I'm sorry I got you involved in all this."

"I'm not." Valina had her chin up again now, almost defiant. "I didn't intend to become so involved, but I know that I can't now go back."

"No – no, you can't go back." Sarah thought about the career she'd abandoned without a second thought, time and again when the Doctor came calling, how it had once been everything to her and now seemed so small. Perhaps this couldn't last forever, travelling like this with the Doctor in the TARDIS, she didn't know – couldn't know – but she did know that it had changed the way she viewed the universe forever. And it was worth it, worth all the rotten, miserable worlds and the wars and the invasions and the terrible things, the battles and the near-death experiences. Even when she was miserable, as she had been for most of the day after falling off that tower, it was still worth it.

And this particular fight wasn't over yet. Sudden yelling outside rather rudely reminded her of that, seconds before the Doctor and Harry erupted back into the shuttle, closely followed by the three smugglers. They were all shouting at once, but the gist was "go, go, go!" and Ren plunged straight on into the cockpit to do just that.

"It's done?" Sarah asked, stupidly because the answer was obvious.

"It's done," said the Doctor with a grin.

dwdwdwdwdw

A raid on a militia detention centre in the heart of the most strictly regulated zone in the citadel should have been the most difficult and dangerous thing they'd done yet today, but in the end it turned out to be something of an anti-climax.

Or perhaps, Harry pondered, he was simply growing far too accustomed to these things.

The Doctor had triggered an alert, he proudly explained numerous times while they were on their way, exactly as if he hadn't already told them the plan beforehand. He'd snuck into a militia vehicle, while the bulk of the guards were busy subduing the Shad and the lone watchman left outside was off chasing Harry, and he'd activated an in-built failsafe to trigger a full-scale alert that would bring every available militia guard in the citadel running, leaving their bases decidedly short-staffed and therefore vulnerable to a sort of covert commando raid to free the prisoners.

That was the theory, at least. Harry did wonder if it could possibly be as simple as that, since very little ever was, especially where the Doctor was concerned, but in fact…it all went like clockwork, more or less.

Perhaps there really was a first time for everything.

The Doctor and Dilly seemed to have great fun, joining forces to remotely spoof the security systems and cameras in and around the detention centre. The Doctor was delighted by Dilly's ingenuity and Dilly was delighted by the Doctor's technical ability, and eventually they managed to stop congratulating one another long enough to get the job done.

Harry and Sarah rolled their eyes at one another, "At last!" and then phase two got underway.

There was rather a lot to do, it transpired: a few remaining rear-guard militia to evade and/or distract and disable, political prisoners to release and databases to scrub of any trace of their identities – to say nothing of trying to avoid being seen lurking in the vicinity, sneaking in and out via the maintenance shafts that ran between the militia tower complex and the next and weren't supposed to allow access from one building to the other but did if you happened to have the Doctor with you.

Somehow they all made it safely out once more – after one or two hairy moments, admittedly, but not a single shot fired – and regrouped in the impromptu hideout they'd found in a goods loading bay at the neighbouring tower, conveniently shut down for the night.

Ren was laughing as she re-joined the group, as enthused as Harry had seen her yet. "I never would have believed it was possible," she said. "Earth man, I am very glad it was my shuttle you fell into today, I would not have missed this for worlds."

"Seems to have worked out rather well all round," Harry told her with a grin that became something of a grimace as a chortling Brunnal unexpectedly slapped him across the back in the jovial sort of fashion he remembered from victorious locker rooms in his sporting youth. He supposed that meant he was well and truly forgiven for interloping into their crew and damaging their shuttle.

The Doctor was looking for Valina and proudly informed her that, since he'd been hacking into the militia databases anyway, he'd taken the opportunity to wipe any trace of her from the system, as well. "Security camera footage, vehicle registration checks, the lot. Your record is clean."

"Then my job is safe, I won't be locked up." Valina was so relieved she threw her arms around him for a spontaneous hug and then was embarrassed by this show of emotion. "I meant what I said," she added. "I'm thankful, more than I can say, my salary is sorely needed, it would take so little to push my family group over the edge into poverty – but I know now what that means, what lies behind our comfort. I won't close my eyes again." To the rebels she added, "I mean to help your cause, if I can."

"You think _you_ can help us?" The freed prisoners were dubious in the extreme.

"She had the idea." Head held high, Valina nodded toward Sarah. "The rich and powerful are on one side, the poor on the other, outweighed, a struggle you cannot win – but there are also many like me, in between, neither rich nor poor but getting by. You need us, our sympathy and our support, voices to take your side. I mean…" she faltered slightly now. "I can make no promises. I am only one person. But I will do what I can."

"Winning hearts and minds, one individual at a time," said the Doctor with a smile. "Not the fastest route to social change, but effective in the long run, perhaps – and with the exposure of corruption on the part of some of the larger corporations…well, it's still far from a level playing field, but it's a start."

"There's also this." Sarah pushed past Harry, digging into a pocket, and pulled out a folded sheet of very thin plastic, covered in print. "I found it in the safe at the Shad's headquarters – it mentions the deal from this morning, the one that was attacked by the Shad."

"Yes?" Ren and the others were instantly interested, but Sarah's focus remained on the freed rebels, her expression troubled.

"Did you know you had a traitor in your group?" She held firm in the face of their outrage at the mere suggestion. "It's true, it's on record here – there was an informant, that's how they knew about the deal."

"I knew it!" Dilly burst out. "I said someone squealed – didn't I say?"

"Who does it accuse, may I see?" asked one of the rebels, reaching for the document, a tall creature of indeterminate gender, with rat-like features and all-over-body fur that was longer around the face and styled in neat braids. Studying the page intently, the alien let out a shout of rage. "No! No, it can't be. We trusted him!"

"What? Who?" The other rebels clustered around, trying to see the document for themselves, and there was a moment of confusion as they gabbled furiously among themselves. Then the furry one turned to the three smugglers.

"We have not spoken before, Rikard and Gilac handled trade, but both are now gone. I am Enime. I give my word that this will be dealt with, that future deals will be safe – my word. We ask for assurance that trade will continue. Please. The supplies are needed, so very much."

"Today's trade was not profitable for us," said Brunnal with a scowl, but Ren elbowed him in the ribs.

"Don't worry them like that when we all know we'll be back. We appreciate the custom – although fewer days quite like this one would be preferred."

The rebels brightened, and one of them now thought to ask, "Where _are_ the supplies? We sent payment; each household gave what they could."

"I have them," said Valina, gesturing to her vehicle, now uncoupled from Ren's shuttle once more. "I'll show you – how do you arrange distribution…?"

As Valina and the freed prisoners wandered away, deep in conversation, the Doctor chuckled. "That woman is a store executive, you know, a professional businesswoman – she'll have the trade and distribution arm of their group whipped into shape in no time!"

"Probably," Sarah agreed with a smile, watching Valina go.

It was all very heart-warming, Harry was sure, and he wished them all well, and all that, but he was also beginning to feel what a terribly long day – and night – it had been. "So it actually is over now, is that right?" he hopefully asked.

"Almost," said the Doctor, turning to the three smugglers. "I have just one last favour to ask, if I may."

"You would like to retrieve your blue box," Ren guessed, and Harry had to grin at the Doctor's surprise.

"It's at a waste depot," he said – in unison with Sarah, who grinned back at him and said, "Snap!"

The Doctor chuckled. "Glad to see we're all on the same page. So what of it?" He turned back to Ren. "Is a lift too much to ask?"

"I'm almost certain," said Ren, "That we still owe a favour – although I admit it's been hard to keep track."

"We probably do," Dilly agreed.

"I stopped keeping score," said Brunnal with a shrug.

Sarah looked from one to another. "Does that mean yes?"

Ren sniffed. "Well, what else are you going to do? Walk?"

It was her way of saying yes. Harry smiled. "Well, we'd rather not," he said. "So thank you."

dwdwdwdwdw

Sarah spent the journey to the waste disposal centre trying to work out how long it had been since she last managed any sleep – and being unconscious after her shooting didn't count. They'd been on the go all day and all night, she knew that much, even if she didn't know exactly how long those were on this world. It had been morning when they arrived and a new dawn was just beginning to tinge the sky once more as they approached the sprawling complex that was the waste disposal centre. No wonder she was tired.

"There it is," said the Doctor, fresh as a daisy as usual, leaning forward over the pilot's chair with his brow furrowed in thought. "What's the security like in there?"

Dilly punched a few controls and studied the output on a small screen. "Tight. Who'd want to steal junk?"

"Desperate people," he replied. "Perhaps the same desperate people who'd stage a protest at a store selling goods they need but can't afford."

"And us," Sarah chipped in. "Obviously."

He grinned. "And us – obviously."

She turned her head sideways trying to see past his elbow to the display on Dilly's screen, which she was unable to make either head or tail of anyway. "Well, we've already broken into a pirate base and a militia detention centre today…"

"So this should be a doddle?" Harry's voice dryly chipped in from the doorway behind her – paying attention again now they were almost there. He'd spent most of the journey in the lounge with Brunnal, chatting amiably while stuffing his face with that rank alien food; Sarah might have joined him, because she was hungry, except she wasn't sure she'd ever be _that_ hungry.

"I think so," the Doctor confidently declared. "Well, all we want is our property back, no point waking anyone when we can just pop in and take it, no harm done – just a matter of finding it in there."

If Sarah could make neither head nor tail of the display on the shuttle's computer screen, then she had no hope of understanding the technical details of what the Doctor and Dilly did to track the TARDIS down in the labyrinth that the waste disposal centre appeared to be. All she knew was that they managed it, by remotely manipulating the computerised systems, did much the same thing to bypass all the electronic security, and then it was just a matter of gaining entry and finding their way through the maze to the section where the TARDIS had been stashed.

It was in a vast warehouse full of broken-down machinery and vehicles, neatly organised by size and function, some of them already stripped down for whatever purpose was found for salvaged parts on this world. In the dark of night, lit only by handheld torches, there was something almost spooky about the place, like a sort of industrial graveyard.

But the TARDIS was there, safe and sound, and that was what mattered. The Doctor ran over to pat at its walls the moment he saw it, all but crooning, "There you are, old girl. What have these nasty people been doing to you?"

"Is that it?" Brunnal incredulously asked.

"What do you mean, 'is that it'?" the Doctor indignantly retorted. "This is it: my TARDIS. Isn't she a beauty?"

Brunnal didn't seem impressed. "I thought it would be bigger."

"Oh, it's bigger than it looks, I assure you," said Harry with a grin. None of the smugglers looked convinced.

"How do you plan to get it out?" Dilly rather dubiously asked, edging nearer for a better look, eyestalks swivelling to squint sideways at the TARDIS, antennae wiggling and wafting.

"I shall pilot it out, of course." The Doctor had that dignified note to his voice now that meant his pride remained ruffled; how he hated any jibe at the expense of the TARDIS.

Ren lifted an eyebrow. "Perhaps this time without dropping your crew off tall towers – do you trust your pilot, Earth man? There's a place on my crew if you don't."

There was a mischievous glint in her eye, the suggestion was a joke – at least, mostly a joke, Sarah thought, but with an edge of sincerity. They liked him. If he said yes they'd let him go with them, and the thought of it brought her up short, the idea that he might choose to stay out here, that such a choice could be possible from where the two of them had started…but Harry only laughed. Of course he did; his roots back on Earth ran deeper than hers, career military that he was. "Thanks all the same," he said, resting a palm against the side of the TARDIS. "But this is my ride."

"I should think so, too," said the Doctor in indignation that was now only feigned; he'd clearly never doubted for a moment what the answer would be. "Queen's officer jumping ship – that would never do, what would the Brigadier say? Incidentally," and he turned back to the smugglers now, "It's been a pleasure, and I do so hate to cut a long goodbye short, but do you realise you've got just four-and-a-half minutes to get out of here before the security systems reboot…"

"We're going – goodbye!"

And they were gone, just like that: gone to repair their shuttle and head off-world to set up more dodgy deals, no doubt. This was a lousy world – crushingly unfair to its neediest citizens and unwelcoming to strangers – so it was some comfort to know that there were decent, if technically criminal, people out there, doing their small bit to make this society a better place, one illegal deal at a time.

Somehow, though, it still didn't feel like enough.

"Yes, and so should we be going." The Doctor unlocked the TARDIS door and led the way inside. "A good day's work, I feel. We've radicalised a shop worker, brought down a nest of pirates, exposed corruption, and supported a campaign for social change. Yes, a good day's work."

"Do you think so?" There was a rickety old hard-back chair in a corner of the console room and Sarah flopped onto it with a sigh. "I'm not sure we actually achieved all that much – nothing's really changed here, has it? I wish we could have done more."

The Doctor shrugged and wrinkled his nose in contemplative fashion. "Well, these things are all relative, you know. This is a very young world, Sarah, it has to find its own way forward; all we can do is offer a nudge in the right direction and hope they make it. Any real change has to come from the people themselves if it's to have any meaning."

He'd said something similar earlier. Sarah told herself to let it go. They'd done what they could; it was up to Valina and the others to fight their own battles now. No outsider could hope to do it for them, not really. "I suppose you're right – you usually are."

"Yes, I usually am," he boasted and she could have kicked herself for setting up that little bit of self-aggrandizement – he didn't need any encouragement. He all but danced around the console, scarf trailing, setting controls. "Time we were off. Where next, do you think?"

"Oh, Earth, surely," said Harry at once. "The Brigadier's waiting for us."

Career military: case in point. It seemed a far stronger pull than Sarah's career had ever been for her, for all the burning ambition that had driven her before meeting the Doctor, and she wasn't sure if she envied or pitied him for that anchor, tethering him to the life he'd left behind however far they roamed.

But if Harry was the needle on a compass, always pointing due _home_, then the Doctor was the wind, blowing this way and that as the fancy struck him. His impressively elastic face contorted into a grimace of epic proportions at the thought of a return to duty. "Bah. Something deathly dull, no doubt. We can do better than that – we all almost died, we deserve a holiday!"

"We always almost die," Harry observed – rather pointedly, Sarah felt.

"Sometimes rather more 'almost' than others," she said, remembering that tower and the sickening terror of freefall, how it had felt when she thought Harry was dead, and the shock of her gunshot wound. "I think the Doctor's right. I don't know about you, Harry, but I could do with a rest before the Brigadier puts us all back to work. Somewhere fun, perhaps."

She could see Harry wavering, liking the idea in spite of his commitment to duty, and the Doctor saw it too. He chuckled, dematerialising the TARDIS with a flourish. "Somewhere fun it is."

~end~

© JB, July 2014


End file.
